HR 9wv3 Amrys and the paying students
by slytherinsal
Summary: Paying students would help the weavercraft at Rivenhill to expand, and how much trouble could they be, separated as they were from the apprentices?
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

Amrys applauded Master Weaver Lynger's decision to take the paying students in at a different time of Turn to the new apprentices.

By taking them in at midsummer, the new apprentices who had come at Turnover would have settled in, and there would be less disruption. And from the point of view of the Ranking girls, coming in the summer was less of a shock to the system than arriving in the bitter cold of a High Reaches winter.

Each girl paid 600 marks for her turn's tuition, twice the wages of a labourer; that covered extensive tuition, though it was not as detailed as that an apprentice received, nor as many different fields. The messier aspects of weavercraft, such as the often malodorous art of dyeing, was not offered to the paying students. They learned such ladylike things as multi-heddle weaving, tablet weaving, knitcrafts, lacecrafts, embroidery and dressmaking. And this turn, most of them would be paying at least in part using the newly printed hundred-mark paper notes from the Printcrafters.

An apprentice paid 150 marks to be entered into an apprenticeship, with some discretionary scholarships for the talented – Amrys' mother funded two such scholarships – and it covered a turn's food and wages of teaching Journeymen or Masters, as there were a number of apprentices to pay for the tuition collectively. After the first turn, apprentices would be engaged in real work for the good of the craft, as well as having projects to earn a few marks for themselves. They were starting to pay their own way. Amrys' own job was to baste pieces together for Mastersewncraft Braelek for ready-made clothes, and those garments that were ordered, to be tailored. She was a fast, accurate baster, and though she hated the tedium, she was thrilled to think she could actually pay for her tuition and food now, by her own industry! For a change, Master Braelek had set her to hemming, where every stitch had to be invisible; and though it still had its own tedium, Amrys was proud to be trusted to do it right, without getting careless.

The same level of skill would not necessarily be expected of the Ranking Students, though they would be encouraged to be as good as they could be. They, however, would not be fined for poor work as the apprentices were!

oOo

Amrys had also been given the task of welcoming the paying students; Master Lynger had asked her to wear her Rank knots as well as her apprentice knots. After the fiasco of Siresha's attack on a blueweed-scented Amrys the previous turn, the Master wanted someone Ranking to explain the rules to the girls; and a turn more maturity to Amrys had made a lot of difference.

"You mean use it shamelessly like I did on the little snots who objected to me being snippy over having to save their fellow from the icy plunge pool?" Amrys asked the Master.

He had heard the story unofficially, and he grinned.

"Along those lines, yes," he said. "I'd ask Sadvia, but for her being attached to us only through the Woodcraft hall, not being a weaver, which could have questions asked. And besides, one of the girls is her sister."

"Glorious egg flying before hatching!" swore Amrys, inventively. "Does she know? Our Sadvia, I mean?"

Master Lynger hid a smile.

"The Journeyman has been apprised," he said, trying to sound reproving. "She's reserving judgement."

Amrys sniffed.

"Oh, well, if the girl is as easily swayed as our Sadvia has intimated, it's best that we weavers do the swaying, not some other pieces of goods."

"I believe that Holder Syal is only permitting her to come because her sister is here to keep an eye on her, er, friendships," said the Master. "A thirtysecond fine for your unflattering description of girls you haven't even met."

"Yes, Master; sorry Master," said Amrys, not sounding sorry.

oOo

Indeela, Sadvia's sister, arrived on a Blue dragon, trying to flirt with the Rider, which was getting her precisely nowhere. D'vind had eyes only for Ch'sseri, and found females not to his taste at all. Indeela looked much like Sadvia, with chestnut hair and creamy skin, with huge brown eyes that somehow seemed to have an air of having less at home behind them than her older sister. She was a little in awe of Amrys' Rank, as Lady Holder in her own Right, and so was less patronising to a 'kid' than she might have otherwise been.

"My littlest sister is in a full apprenticeship; she must be a turn or two younger than you," Indeela said, having thanked D'vind, without remembering to thank Bimoleth. Amrys sent a silent apology for the girl to the Blue dragon and thanked him on her behalf. Indeela went on, "and my sister is a journeyman, and so is my brother, at least until he has to take over as Holder. Our cousin, Lord Larad does like his Holders to take an interest in any craft they host. But I thought it was all too much hard work, especially all that sawing and hammering and other noisy and rough things."

"Yes, I know Journeyman Sadvia well; I'm a logicator too, as well as learning loomcrafting from her," said Amrys. "And of course I know H'llon very well, as I've fostered in the Weyr. Are we finished pulling Rank and deciding who's got the longest tail and shiniest skin?"

Indeela stared; then laughed.

"You're direct, kid," she said.

"It gets places quicker than circumlocution," said Amrys, pleased to fit in another good long word. "If I want double-speak I'll hire a Harper. Now are you going to listen to the rules from me before I deliver you to Otaysa, your house mother?"

Indeela nodded quickly.

"Oh yes, I've promised to obey all the strictures," she said.

By all accounts, her parents were strict enough to take the girl away if there were any complaints at all; and she seemed ready to make good. Amrys ran through the short rule list, and then delivered Indeela to Otaysa.

Amrys judged the girl 'mostly harmless.'

oOo

Next to arrive was Brown Sharath, one of Amrys' favourite dragons. K'len had brought his second sister, Kelia, at sixteen the same age as Indeela.

"Hello sprout, you look more like a boy than ever," drawled Kelia.

"Well I'd rather look like a boy than like a Journeyman Baker's Masterpiece of icing craft," retorted Amrys. "What _are_ you wearing?"

"It's the latest fashion out of Southern Boll!" declared Kelia, indignantly.

"Well, it was three turns ago; and for mature ladies," said Amrys, contemptuously. "Talk about lamb dressed as mutton; you look like a kid of eight who's found her mother's old clothes to play dressing up in."

Kelia spluttered and K'len guffawed.

"And a _weaver_ should know, even if you don't listen to your brother or mother!" the Brown Rider said. "Amrys, can you even _spell_ the word 'tact'?"

"Not to family," said Amrys, "And you people sort of are."

That mollified Kelia a little; and she muttered something about it being a comment L'kelle might make.

"Well, I get on fine with L'kelle, so what do you expect?" said Amrys. L'kelle had Impressed at Segrith's clutch that spring.

"Is it _really_ out of date?" demanded Kelia.

"A trifle passé," said Amrys. "It'd be all right if you were pushing thirty, but … anyway, we can alter it for you to make it much more the thing, with the latest sketches to work from. I will be glad when H'llon prints fashion plates ever quarter turn so people keep up. Makes more work for us too, having to alter or sew for people. Oh, and I mustn't forget I have to tell you the rules and then take you to Otaysa. There's another girl here your age, she's Sadvia's sister, you know, Elissa's friend from the Woodcrafter Hall."

Kelia nodded.

"What are the rules then?"

"It's mostly about respect – respect of craftsmen and not interfering with them, respect of each other, and respect of High Reaches cranky weather. Rules about snow goggles you already know."

Amrys reeled off the list of rules again, and Kelia nodded. They were all sensible rules, and vain and silly as Kelia could be, she was sensible enough about real rules!

K'len waved farewell and went over to the Hold to cadge cider and a chat with Corbin.

Girls were strange beings when they got together, and he wanted none of it; one at a time to warm his furs was _his_ rule for girls, and though he had a loose, on-off relationship with Green Rider R'iana, he had no intention of settling down!

oOo

Kelia's over-decorated gown disappeared in favour of a plainer work gown more suitable for a maiden of tender years, and the project of altering it to bring it up to date was one of Kelia's planned first projects.

oOo

The next girl came on a Blue dragon whose Rider was a pleasant faced youth wearing the knots of Telgar Weyr.

"Hello!" said Amrys, to the dragon. "You look way too nice to have come from Telgar, what happened, your egg hatch in the wrong place?"

The dragon's eyes whirled in consternation.

"Uh … My lady, Porth isn't used to being talked to by, uh, well, anyone but me," said his youthful Rider.

"Hmm, poor Porth," said Amrys. "Thanks, Blue Rider, you look nice too, and I expect Porth will get used to it now you have L'rilly and D're in your Weyr. Do you know my adopted brother Jilamon?"

The boy brightened.

"I'll say! He stood up to old … uh, to the Brown Rider, like Timon did!"

"T'mon," said Amrys, sharply. "He's a dragonrider, and he's won the silver star many times over for mountain rescue, because Denth can go into small spaces."

"Sorry," said the Blue Rider, flushing. "He … they said he didn't deserve the contraction, and until Candidate Prisca came, we thought he was confined insane, or overdosed on Fellis because St'mon said that the undersized dragon, uh, Denth, had died. She's really shaken everyone up! Do you know her?"

"Yes, I do," said Amrys, finding it hard to picture Prisca in the same sentence as shaking people up. Sagarra had mentioned that T'lana had asked her to go to Telgar, but Amrys had been sceptical. Seemingly she had been wrong about the girl; a lesson to learn in that. People could change. "We at High Reaches don't much care for the attitudes of those who have forgotten what it is to serve dragons. Why don't you drop in at the Weyr and catch up with T'mon after you've said hello to Jilamon? And my stepfather used to be C'bin of course, if you want to catch up with him too; ask Porth to speak with him, if you please. It makes a lot of difference to the dragonless, you know."

"I didn't," the Rider said. "I say, I ought to introduce you to my passenger; this is Marra. Lady Varilka of Newfields Hold sent her."

Amrys smiled and held out her hand.

The girl wore no knots at all; and she was only a turn or so older than Amrys. She was a brown creature; brown hair, skin and eyes, and rather more skinny than slender.

"Oh, have you come for a proper apprenticeship late, not be one of our usual ornamental types at all?" asked Amrys, eagerly.

The girl flushed and shook her head.

"The … the lady Varilka is … is kindly paying for me to have a turn's tuition," she whispered, shyly. "She … she saw my work. I … I'm a drudge," she added defiantly.

"Well, if you're good enough to be sponsored, you're good enough to be an apprentice, surely?" asked Amrys. "Tell you what, see how you get on; if you want to transfer to an apprenticeship, I'm sure Master Lynger can pull the right strings. I've heard of Lady Varilka; Geriana and B'kas and the boys say she's nice, so she won't _mind_ you learning more, I'm sure! Now, I need to tell you all the rules… I'm Amrys, by the way."

The girl Marra felt rather overwhelmed.

She had dreaded meeting the Ranking types like this Lady Amrys, afraid they'd put her down and make game of her low birth. But this girl seemed more concerned that she, Marra, should have the best chance to learn that she could! And overwhelming as the Lady Amrys was, she seemed kindly and friendly too – in a rather exhausting way. And she chattered familiarly to and about dragonfolk too, though if her stepfather was a dragonless man, that was scarcely surprising. And she had such a lovely warm smile that Marra tentatively responded to.

"There!" said Amrys. "You do have a pretty smile … don't let any of those stuck up tunnel snakes stop you smiling – you come to me if they try! Indeela should be all right, her parents are decent; and Kelia's weyrbred so she don't give a shard about birth, though she's daft about men, and they're both fairly elderly, sixteen, I think. Reckon I can sneak you into the apprentice common room if there aren't any other girls your age. There are six female apprentices, and none over thirteen, so we're a jolly bunch, you know!"

"Th … thank you!" said Marra, thinking that Amrys probably even meant it all.

"I talk too much, don't I?" said Amrys. "Sorry. Kevanna and Lyssa hit me with cushions when I lead off too long; of course we wouldn't let this turn's intake take liberties like that, even if Bretine _is_ older than me! Anyway, here's Otaysa's room, and here are the rules," and she rattled them off.

And the shy girl was duly delivered to the motherly Otaysa.

oOo

The next girl in, who had a passing resemblance to Po'nea and I'linne was pounced on by Kelia before Amrys could introduce herself.

"By your looks you're Rulene; B'mall said you wanted to do a turn improving your sewing and weaving, and judging by the comments of those tomboys V'lie, J'issa and Mallitta, you and I will get on just fine!"

"Oh, are you weyrbred? Don't you want to Impress?" asked Rulene. "V … V'lie and J'issa could speak of nothing else, and how hard it is to remember they contract!"

"What, you think I want to get out of my furs at half past way too early in winter to get sleeted on and attacked by fish as well as fighting Thread? No thank you!" snorted Kelia.

Rulene beamed.

"How nice to meet another girl who doesn't think that being a Green Rider is the pinnacle of all existence!" she said. "I also want time away from home to find out who I am, now I don't have to go in fear of father any more, as well as to learn nice sewing. Lord Deckter has placed his nephew as Holder of Two Springs Hold since Bimall, I mean B'mall, Impressed last turn, which is ridiculous as he was over age. And I think I'm expected to marry him. Lord Deckter's nephew that is, of course, not my brother B'mall. And he's very nice but I'm not sure if he's nice enough to want to marry. At least, not yet! And it's a way of stepping back."

Rulene was very young for her nineteen turns, in some respects, and Kelia seemed to her to be a perfect confidante!

Amrys sighed and left them to it.

With Indeela as well, who also seemed to be more interested in clothes than anything else, judging by the amount of luggage she had brought, there seemed to be a lot of silliness in the offing.

Amrys reminded herself that it was _not_ her business.

If they got too silly it was up to Otaysa to squash it. Amrys reflected that even had she been as old as those girls, she would steer clear of having anything to do with them. Poor Marra! Only two more to arrive; and Amrys had heard that one of them was Lord Bargen's daughter at least as old as Indeela and Kelia.

Well, Marra should have a haven with the apprentices; as she deserved if she was here on the merits of achievement not because she had wealthy relatives.

Amrys went to talk to Master Lynger.

oOo

"About Marra, Master," she said, abruptly.

"She's not been bullied already for her lack of Rank?" asked the Master.

"No … but she feels it. And she's so much younger than the others, and not as constitutionally silly," said Amrys, in disgust.

Lynger know her vagaries of collecting long words too well by now to be thrown by a twelve-turn-old using such prolixic descriptions.

"What do you suggest I do about it?" he asked. Amrys at least would have constructive ideas and would not take asking her opinion for weakness.

"I hoped you'd write to the Lady Varilka and ask if Marra mightn't be a real apprentice," said Amrys, earnestly. "If she's motivated by kindness, it would give the girl status in her own right as well as more skills in the long run. I bet she meant well, and saw being a paying student as a reward. But for a shy kid who's younger than the rest, it could be the opposite."

Master Lynger nodded.

"I hear your words, Amrys," he said. "But I'll wait to judge for myself if she should apprentice, as she's had no trial as one would expect. If all she can do is embroider, well, I don't want a one-trick pony in a new and small crafthall."

Amrys nodded acquiescence.

Such people were not luminaries of a craft hall, though in a large enough hall they had their place. It would be no problem in Southern Boll, or Fort, but here at Rivenhill it would show.

The Master was right; and she beamed at him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Barla, the daughter of Lord Bargen seemed a nice enough girl, with a mop of ginger hair in unruly plaits. She got off the dragon that brought her with more haste than grace and promptly fell over her own feet.

From the resigned look on her freckled face she was used to being clumsy. She grinned ruefully at Amrys.

"My feet don't always seem to listen when I give them orders," she said.

"Well, so long as your fingers listen when the Masters give them orders you should be all right," said Amrys, cheerfully. "I think it's called being coltish and gets grown out of. I've got it to look forward to."

"That's what my mother says," said Barla. "And it's why I'm here, really, and make new friends. He knows fine well I'd irritate the Masters of High Reaches Hold, even though Master Varik got recalled to Southern Boll. Apparently H'llon speaks highly of your Master Lynger, and Father thinks H'llon is what they had in mind when they invented Bronze Riders."

"My!" said Amrys. "You can out-talk me, with about as much tact, too! I like you already, and I do agree with your father about H'llon. Barla, will you do me a favour?"

"Yes, of course," said Barla, blushing at Amrys' forthright comment, but grinning too.

"There's a kid, only thirteen turns, named Marra; sponsored on merit. Keep an eye on her for me – she's shy," said Amrys. "You don't seem like you're silly over clothes, men, or other crackdust, so you'll like her better than the other idiots anyway."

"I see what you mean about your own tact," said Barla. "Of course I'll look out for her! H'llon believes in promotion by merit! He's so handsome too; it's a pity he's as good as married."

She sighed gustily and Amrys suppressed a shudder. She obviously was sillier than at first she appeared!

Amrys did Barla a slight injustice in that thought; Barla liked the _idea_ of being in love with a handsome Bronze Rider, but was wise enough to realise deep down that the reality might actually be less romantic than the dream. And she had no desire to try for Impression, so she enjoyed the pleasant feelings that H'llon aroused in her from a safe distance!

H'llon would have been horrified had he realised how many young girls wriggled pleasurably with highly coloured and mostly inaccurate imaginings of what they might like to do with him; the majority would have turned shy if he actually even spoke to them!

oOo

The final girl also wore no knots; but whereas Marra had been well enough dressed in sensible garb, this one was over-dressed in expensive fabrics. She had pretty eyes in a pale face, but her mousy hair was rather lank, even though plainly dressed by someone who was an expert. She looked at Amrys' knots and dropped a curtsey that she seemed to pull short of the deep curtsey she had started.

"Oh my lady! How _naice_ to meet you!" she gushed. "My name's Breda, and I'm afraid I'm not _quaite_ of your Rank, but my father has done so _very_ well, you know, he's very well thought of where we come from!"

Amrys nodded.

"For my own part, I'm less bothered by Rank than whether you're going to have a good time learning weavercraft," she said, coolly, trying to force herself not to withdraw from the sycophantic tone. This one was quite young, too, almost as young as Marra. Perhaps they'd be allies, if the fawning act was just that, an act. Amrys knew that some people put on false fronts when confronted with the Ranking or with Dragonfolk. She went on, "We have a number of rules for the paying students; Master Lynger asked me to greet all of you and tell you what our rules for you all are,"

"Oh, of course, My Lady!" the girl giggled inanely.

" _My_ rules first," said Amrys, grimly. "I'm apprentice Amrys; I just happen to Rank. Nobody takes any notice of my Rank, and I'm only using it to prevent any crackdust from those who think it matters a shard if they have a father who might be someone with position. So drop the 'my lady' fork-juice, or I shan't talk to you at all bar listing the rules."

"Oh! If you wish it … Amrys," the girl smirked, and Amrys realised that she had made a mistake; this was one who took liberties.

Too late now, and it was a lesson Amrys would remember.

She listed the rules carefully; and explained in great detail, twice, the rules which seemed to confuse Breda, such as safety regulations.

"You are just _too_ kind, Amrys!" simpered Breda. Amrys repressed a shudder.

"No kindness, just part of my duties," said Amrys, firmly.

In a turn, this one would be saying to someone she hoped to impress, 'well I was chatting with Lady Amrys of Rivenhill…. Amrys is so kind' and things like that.

Maybe Kelia would knock her corners off.

Kelia was an idiot about some things, but she had her head screwed on about relative worth!

oOo

Amrys dismissed the paying students from her mind and went back to her lessons.

"Bad?" asked Journeyman Otelek, who was assisting Master Braelek in teaching measurement for pattern drafting.

"Worse," said Amrys, gloomily.

oOo

Amrys discussed the girls with her own coterie later, and included the younger girls in the discussion, crowded into what had become the girls' corner of the common room.

"The older ones won't really be a problem for us, however," she said. "They're daft, but I should think harmless, unless you're male, grown up and good looking. And you lot," she nodded to the male apprentices of her intimates, "only count on one of those criteria."

"Oy!" said Hetel.

"Which do you think he's querying, the grown up, or the good looking?" asked Kevanna.

"Sure, and it doesn't matter, for he fails on both," said Lyssa, beaming at Hetel.

Hetel tweaked her nose, gently.

"Brat," he said, lazily.

Jeral, Kyilin and Larek were exchanging looks.

"There might be some fun to be had, though, for sure," said Jeral. "Amrys, me dharlin' ghirl, have y'still got some of those poems Larterel wrote last Turn?"

"Yes, and I use the paper to copy knitting patterns onto, on the back," said Amrys. "Waste not, want not. You're a bad man, Jeral, and if you borrow them you can buy your own paper to copy on; I want my knitting patterns back. Anyway, you could probably write better, if you're up to what I think you're up to."

Jeral grinned.

"Sure, I can, me dharlin' but it's the style I'm wantin' t'study for the air of romance."

"I'm not sure the air of romance around those pieces of crackdust isn't rancid," said Amrys.

"Who were you thinking of setting which one up with?" asked Larek.

Jeral leaned over and whispered in his friend's ear and Larek gave a crack of laughter.

"Horrid boys, our masters and journeymen are far too nice to make game of them!" said Amrys severely.

"Don't worry, it's none of our people," chuckled Larek. "It's a _bonza_ idea, Jeral!"

Jeral had also whispered to Kyilin, whose eyes went wide, and he, too, started laughing.

Amrys rolled her eyes.

"Oh dear!" she said. "Well, ignoring these crazy idiots, will you girls help out if we get Marra made an apprentice?"

"Oh, of course!" said Bretine. "We'll have to split the dormitory of course."

"Yes, us three senior ones will either have to move, or we'll have to have the partition down," said Amrys. "Me, I'm in favour of having the partition down; but when we're all older, it'll be tedious for both us and younger girls, as we'd find it tedious right now with big ones."

"We'll need an upper Green dormitory at some point, I guess; if we get three girls a turn we'd soon overflow it anyway," said Kevanna.

"D… do you mind if I say something?" asked Clareena. She had become a much happier girl since confessing to Amrys how she had destroyed the other girls' work in a fit of jealous anger; and only Amrys, who had lost the most work, knew it had been she. The rest had been told by Master Lynger that the culprit had confessed to him and was to be given a second chance as the said apprentice was truly sorry, and this they had accepted. Clareena adored Amrys with a grateful adoration that could be wearing, and which the others interpreted as the gratitude over having had her life saved by Amrys in a blizzard.

Amrys smiled kindly.

"Of course we don't mind! Go right ahead, our kid!"

Clareena was several months older than Amrys, of which she had no idea as Amrys had the assurance of a girl at least a turn older than herself. Reassured, Clareena went on,

"Breda – there's something about her that reminds me of Bettana, who was so mean to me in the Hold. Bettana put on airs and graces because her father was better off than the rest of our parents – he's a marksman – and she sucked up to important people. She took liberties if given half a chance, like you say this Breda did … I guess she might bully, too."

"Hmm!" said Amrys. "That's good logicator work. People often do act in the same way if they're similar characters. She craves attention, too, I'd say. Well, Clareena, you just volunteered to keep a sharp eye on Marra; because you'll recognise the signs of that sly sort of bullying. I'm well acquainted with unsubtle violence, but I've no knowledge how girls bully."

Clareena flushed with pleasure to be trusted.

"Do … do you think I can?" she asked.

"Oh, yes!" said Amrys. "And you're the only one who can, too. Besides, I scare Marra because she's shy; she needs someone a bit gentler and less, er, effervescent than me to make friends with."

It would also give Clareena a special friend at her own level of training, near enough; and relieve Amrys of quite as much responsibility!

oOo

Clareena had guessed correctly.

Otaysa had taken Breda to meet the others, telling her kindly,

"And this is Marra, who I believe comes from the same Hold as you; I expect as you're close to each other in age, you may like to be friends." She smiled and left the girls to it.

Breda stared at Marra.

"So _this_ is where you got to!" she said.

"I heard your father did well. Congratulations," said Marra, rather stiffly.

Breda came and plumped herself down beside Marra.

"So, how come you're here?" she asked, softly.

"Lady Varilka thought I should be trained further," said Marra. "She sponsored me here."

Breda gave a harsh laugh.

"Well, that's cheek, to train her serving drudge amongst ladies!"

Marra flushed.

"You're not a lady yourself – you're only rich because your father won all that at the races!"

Breda waved an airy hand.

"Marks talk! And Pa knows how to invest well, you can bet, so we'll be richer still! And I'll have a turn here, and a turn in the Harper Hall so I know all the things a lady knows, and then I'll marry a Holder. Maybe even a LORD Holder!" she tossed her mousy locks, which were coming undone from the expensive coiffure. "And I think I resent a drudge brat being here. So you'd better fulfil your function and drudge for me – or I'll tell the other girls what you are!"

Marra stared at her in horror.

This had all taken place in an undertone whilst the older girls were discussing clothes, uninterested in the younger two.

"You … you wouldn't!" Marra said. "Then I could tell them back that your father's only a trader who's a lucky gambler!"

"Oh, but that's the point – he's _lucky_. And I'm _rich_. It counts, you know! And at least he has a craft – not like your father. If you even know who your father is!" she sneered.

Marra did not.

Her mother had been reticent about her conception and Marra strongly suspected that she had been a child of rape.

Tears started to her eyes.

"Now don't you start looking like a wet seventhday or I'll give you something to cry about," said Breda, pinching Marra sharply. "You'll only draw attention to yourself – and then it'll come out! And what's more, if you don't do what I tell you, I'd even go to Lady Amrys. She asked _me_ to call her Amrys, you know; why she wants to be an apprentice and pretend to lay her Rank aside, I don't know, but she's Lady Holder of the Hold here, her mother's only the Warder. And she'd have you packed off home in no time for coming here under false pretences, and making like you're a decent person!"

Marra stared.

Amrys had introduced herself to her just by her name, without honourific; and had been friendly. And she already knew Marra's background and was still friendly.

"I think you wrong Amrys for thinking her to be so shallow," she said, greatly daring. "She's not a snob at all you know!"

"It's not for the likes of _you_ to use her name!" Breda gave her another vicious nip.

"Why not, when she asked me to?" Marra flushed with her own daring in standing up to Bresa.

"Huh, she thinks you're someone, I expect, not the nobody you really are!" Breda was speaking louder in anger that Marra should defy her.

Kelia got up and strolled over.

"Now then, Breda, or whatever your name is, do I have Rank pulling? We're not going to do that here, it's extremely ill bred. We're here to learn weavercraft, not to run a hold, so put a plug in it."

Breda took in the triangular knots of a weyrchild – Kelia normally wore support staff knots, considering herself adult, but had acceded to her brother's suggestion in this – and simpered.

Allies in the Weyr would be handy.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, weyrwoman! Of course, dragons choose on other merits, don't they!" she said.

"Yes," said Kelia, shortly, "And it's Kelia. No titles."

She went back to her friends before she slapped the simpering face as she itched to do!


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Breda's attempts to make Marra drudge for her were not universally successful. The first thing Breda did was to tell Marra to unpack for her and fold her clothes neatly away, whilst lying on the bed giving a running commentary on how much each gown had cost.

Kelia came back over.

"Hey, Breda, what did your last drudge die of?" she drawled in sarcastic tones. "Marra, stop that; let the kid shift for herself. I've no objection to people helping friends, but when a lazy little object lies on a bed while others do her work, it's the outside of enough! And I must say, Breda, your parents have some pretty rum ideas if they let you think that lazing while others do your work for you is a reasonable thing to do!" she added.

"My father can afford drudges to do _everything_ for me!" said Breda, haughtily.

"Oh yeah? Must be convenient not to take a shit for yourself and have someone else have your periods for you," said Kelia, with heavy irony. "Just because you can afford it doesn't mean you ought to grow up as a lazy, useless object! Decent parents don't let their daughters become idle little clothes-racks!"

"My father would throw a blue fit if I were so idle," said Barla. "He'd give me a good spanking and set me to drudge for a sevenday to teach me the value of work."

Breda took in Barla's knots: High Reaches Hold, direct line, Major hold indicated by the gold thread in the knot. She started revising her opinions a little.

It would not do to look bad in Barla's eyes; Barla had eligible brothers, and if she could wangle an invitation to visit, she might meet them.

Breda gave a careless laugh.

"Just kidding," she said. "Wondered how far the kid would go, is all. I'm sure My Lady Barla is extremely capable." And she started putting her own things away.

Barla gave Marra an anxious look. Amrys had asked her to look out for the girl, but Barla had no idea how to start. Marra was stood with her eyes downcast, fighting tears; would Breda do anything to punish her for Kelia stepping in? the older girl had been in the habit of careless unkindness to girls of her own sort of age who were less fortunate than herself even before her father won such a lot on the accumulator – Marra had only the vaguest idea what an accumulator might be - and had aspirations to be a lady.

Barla put an arm around the younger girl's shoulders.

"You don't have to do things for people, you know, Marra," she said, kindly. "You're here, like the rest of us, to learn more; not to drudge."

"You know?" Marra lifted her face to look on the Lord Holder's daughter in amazement. "You know that I'm just a drudge?"

Barla blinked; she had not realised how low born the girl was; but after all, hadn't the Lady T'lana been a drudge at Nabol Hold for a while? And Lady T'lana made being a redhead quite respectable, even if the Queenrider's glorious effulgent locks were a prettier shade than Barla's ginger!

"I knew you were sponsored on merit," she said. "Why, that probably makes you worthier of being here than the rest of us; your background isn't important!"

Tears of relief filled Marra's eyes.

"So when she said she'd tell you all if I didn't do as she told me, it was all just crackdust?" she asked.

Barla shrugged.

"I can't speak for how the others would feel, but a decent person, and especially a lady, is courteous to all, and takes them on their own merits," she said, adding a little to one of H'llon's maxims. "I know you were sponsored, 'cos Amrys said said I'd likely be closest to you in age and suggested I might look out for you as you're shy, 'cos I might like you better than the older ones." Barla sighed. "I don't feel I fit in with them, but you are so much younger than me! I guess if we're both lonely, we could be lonely at each other a bit?"

Marra smiled shyly.

"If … if you don't mind me being a drudge."

"Well, I guess we've got liking needlework in common to talk about," said Barla. "I don't know many drudges, only my personal drudge, but she's my old nurse and she bullies me something rotten."

Marra giggled.

"Well, I guess I won't be bullying you, My Lady," she said.

"Barla. No titles in here," said Barla, firmly. Her father would not expect her to behave any differently to a sponsored drudge than to a Queenrider in this situation!

Breda had no chance to get at Marra before supper; and after the meal, she was neatly outflanked by Amrys and Clareena, who had laid plans, and neatly extricated Marra with arms linked each side and an invitation to come and see their common room.

"It's against the rules for you girls to come in normally, but this is an invitation just to you, Marra," said Amrys, neatly forestalling the idea of Breda following. Marra found herself taken upstairs to a large, yet cosy room with its own, currently empty, fireplace, and upholstered chairs and poufs around little tables, and big cushions on the floor, on which a number of apprentices plumped themselves down. Amrys introduced the other girls and Jilamon, and her other closest friends; and promptly dismissed the boys from the 'girls' corner' which had a sofa and cushions around a low table, and an open set of shelves like a screen, in which the girls stowed their work.

" _Girl_ talk!" Amrys said firmly. "Like, we were not happy about Breda; Clareena here recognises the type."

"She's a sly bully, isn't she?" said Clareena.

Marra stared, and then it all came tumbling out, how Breda meant to make her drudge for her.

"Well, I hope you've told her where to stick her daft ideas!" said Amrys. "That's blackmail! It's a crime, actually, did you know that?"

Marra shook her head.

Clareena linked an arm with her.

"Don't let Amrys bully you with kindness," she said. "She means well; but she's a little overwhelming until you get used to her. I took her all wrong at first; but she's really very nice."

"I … I can see that," said Marra.

"Oh good," said Clareena. "It's easier when you know that people really do mean well. I was the most awful little goop when I first came here because I was bullied most awf'lly badly before, and I was scared anyone forceful was like that too. This Breda seems a real tunnel snake!"

"She is," said Marra, miserably, "and she pinches, too."

"Huh, maybe we can give her some of her own medicine," said Amrys. "Marra, the only way to deal with bullies is to stand up to them; which is easier said than done, I know. But it's easier when you know you've got backing! Barla's all right, and so's Kelia, between mooing over boys like a lovelorn ovine, and wanting to dress like a grown-up of advanced turns. She has no taste, but that don't affect her morals. Whatserface, er, Indeela, she's fairly harmless, and so's Rulene. I've heard about _her_ from weyr friends. She's as wet as a drying cloth dropped in the bathing pool, but kindly enough, even if she hasn't a clue. They won't care about your background, at least Indeela had better not, or her sister will box her ears and write to their father. You don't have to drudge for Breda; in fact you shouldn't. It's bad for both of you. Tell her to go ahead and tell tales. __Defy her; you can, you know!"

There were murmurs of assent from the other girls.

"Do … do you really think that I can?" asked Marra.

"Yes; because you'll know us other apprentices are rooting for you. And you can't waste time drudging because you need to work hard, and we'll fix for you to be one of us if you can only prove to Master Lynger you deserve it by being good enough at more than just sewing," said Amrys, all in one breath. She knew that if someone was told __that they could do something, it was often enough to give them the will to do it, even if Marra was horribly diffident. "Have you woven at all?" she added, having got her second wind.

Marra nodded.

"I've never done anything fancy, but I can change the gear on a table loom for linen or for wool, and I've woven from caprine wool on an upright loom," she said.

"Can you knit?" asked Kevanna.

"Yes, and crochet; and I know how to make tatted lace too," said Marra.

"Good kid, you're well away there, then," approved Amrys. "You hang in there; it's only temporary. And if you're behind in anything, us seniors will soon catch you up, so you make a good showing to Master Lynger. You have open invitation to visit us, and I suggest you keep your personal projects on our shelves in here too, so Breda can't damage them to punish you."

"Th … thanks," said Marra.

"Well, you might as well stay and get to know us better until bed time," said Kevanna. "No point giving the Breda creature any opportunity to make game of you. This is our hobby time; we can do work for ourselves, not necessarily weavercraft work. In fact, we're not supposed to do anything that is class work in hobby time, and we're on honour not to. We have time set aside to do work to earn with, but between supper and bedtime, we're supposed to relax. We spent a lot of the early part of the turn furbishing up our dormitory, but that was just for our pleasure. The boys over there are playing dragon poker, and we have asked permission to go outside for evening games if it's been too hot to go out in the day time. You can help us with our plaited rugs for our dormitory floor if you like, we're hoping to make one for each bed and a long runner for the middle before it gets cold again. Or you can just hang around and watch."

"I'd like to help; I don't like to be idle."

"Heh, then make sure you always have knitting or crochet or something to hand so Breda can't use that as an excuse – 'as you're not doing anything, you can ….' And so on – you know," said Amrys. " Not a 'will you, please,' to be seen with that type. Janika, you need to herringbone that; I'll show you."

The little girl was sewing clothes for her collection of wooden dolls; this one was a High Reaches cotholder's daughter. Amrys took the tiny scrap of fabric and demonstrated how to set the stitches. Janika smiled thanks, and set carefully to work, decorating the gay work apron that protected the clothes when milking.

Marra thought she was so sweet!

And they were all such friendly girls too, each one addressing comments to her, as well as to their other friends as they worked, some sewing strips together to add to the long plait, Clareena holding it taut while Bretine plaited, and Amrys deftly whipped the ends of new lengths to the ends of the strips being plaited.

Marra was almost disappointed when the gong sounded to announce bed time' and she went off to seek her bed quite happily!

oOo

"Where have you been?" hissed Breda.

"With the apprentices," said Marra, defiantly. "You heard them invite me."

Breda sneered.

"Felt more comfortable at your own level with the lowlife?" she asked.

"Well if you want to call Amrys, and a weyrbred girl, and a Master's granddaughter, __and so on 'low life' then yes, I suppose so," said Marra.

Breda pushed her.

"Don't call Lady Amrys by name!" she said.

"I shall, so! It's what _she_ wants, and I guess her wishes are more to me than yours!"

"Careful," Breda's eyes narrowed. "I'll tell!"

"Go on, then. Say whatever you want; I don't care who you tell what to!" said Marra, her heart beating painfully at her awful temerity.

"Guess I might at that. We'll give you a day or two to reflect on it," said Breda, taken aback, "see which side your bread is buttered __in doing what I want."

"I guess if I did what you want, my bread would be on the floor, butter side down!" flashed Marra.

Breda slapped her.

The other girls stopped their chatter and looked over.

"Breda, will I report you, or will you submit to dormitory discipline?" asked Kelia, who had assumed leadership, which had not been disputed __even by the older Rulene, or the highly Ranking Barla.

"She insulted me!" snarled Breda.

"What did you say, Marra?" asked Kelia.

"I … I just said that if I did what she wanted, the side my bread was buttered was butterside down on the floor," said Marra.

Kelia laughed.

"Not so much an insult then as an opinion. Why should you do as she wants, after all! Breda? Dorm discipline?"

"You can't do anything to me," said Breda, sullenly.

"Want to bet?" said Kelia, softly. "We do not assault others, my girl; and I decree that you apologise to Marra now, and draw her hot water tomorrow as a material apology."

"Apologise to _her_? Are you joking?" Breda was horrified. "She's nothing but a …"

"She's a girl you've assaulted for no good reason," said Kelia. "Oh well …. Girls, you accept my Right as dormitory head?"

The others nodded, and Kelia went over, looked at Marra's face judiciously; and slapped Breda as close to as hard as she had hid Marra as the weyrbred girl could judge. Breda squealed indignantly.

"A blow for a blow, then, if you prefer not to act in a civilised manner," said Kelia. "You may not have had an upbringing to suit you to live with decent folk, but you'll get a rough upbringing from the rest of us to make you more able to live with us!"

Breda rubbed her face resentfully. And yet, a part of her accepted the right of the weyrbred to hit commons, even if she did resent it. And if truth were known, she preferred to take a slap than have the humiliation of apologising to a girl she despised!

Otaysa's head came round the door.

" _Girls!_ You're rather __loud, and there are little girls trying to sleep next door! And it's time you were in bed too; you older ones may chat quietly for half an hour, if you don't disturb Marra and Breda. Any trouble?"

"Nothing we can't handle, thank you, Otaysa," said Kelia, calmly.

Otaysa gave her a look.

"I see," she said.

Kelia thought she probably did see; there was that about Otaysa that reminded Kelia of Pilgra!

oOo

The paying students were given their money's worth. They were kept too busy for Breda to make herself obnoxious to Marra, for even in their recreation periods they were supervised! Otaysa had no intention of letting trouble start; and Kelia's unspoken warning prompted her to take a closer view of the girls until she had sorted out who might be the troublemaker.

Moreover, Marra was firmly drawn into the ranks of the apprentices in their leisure time, asked to make up a seven-a-side kabaddi team with the girls, playing against the naughty trio, plus Jilamon, Nelon, Tirley and Jerellan. Jerellan's health had improved so much that he was glad to play games that had been denied him so long!

Marra enjoyed herself; holding hands with the others to try to catch a raider and prevent him getting back to his side before his breath ran out and he had to stop chanting 'kabaddi, kabaddi' to prove he held his breath, and retreating.

Marra was caught herself, and pulled over the line by Jeral and Kyilin raiding, despite the shrieking efforts of the other girls to drag her back, and then she must sit out, and a point went to the boys!

The score was never closely kept; it was played for fun, not like the Hold Championships at Major Gathers. And it was fun! A lot more fun than walking about sedately chatting like the older girls, who pretended to despise such childishness, but came to cheer the girls on anyway!

Breda was scowling! How _dare_ Marra enjoy herself so, and with Lady Holder Amrys at that! It was intolerable! Breda had not considered that Amrys had chosen to extract Marra and make a friend of her.

Breda lay in wait for Amrys, on the way back to the Hall.

"Oh, Amrys, I must just have a word with you!" she said.

"Must you?" said Amrys, raising an eyebrow. It was a skill she had been practising since Turnover, and she had finally perfected it – and it was an even more useful accomplishment than being able to wiggle her ears!

"Oh yes, I must!" said Breda, trying to sound earnest. "You see, you might be under a misapprehension about the girl, Marra."

"Indeed?" Amrys asked, coolly.

"Yes, she may be being paid for, but it's only to give her more skills as a sewing drudge. She's nothing but a fatherless drudge girl, you know."

"Yes, I already knew that," said Amrys. "And what is the point of this poisonous little whisper of yours? To try to make me look ill-bred enough to drop a friend on the grounds of her birth? I'm not so ill-bred, you know, I was raised to be a lady. You, however, _are_ ill-bred; pinching and slapping like one of Meron's fancy pieces, boasting about the cost of your clothing, and generally behaving with all the manners of a wherry-kite let loose with a choice piece of carrion to delve in! If you want to learn to be a lady to go with your new-found wealth, I suggest you look deeper in yourself than fine clothes, which do _not_ a lady make. Manners make the man, _ **(…**_ you know, and until you learn that, I don't want to talk to you again, because you disgust me. As well as being a criminal." Amrys began to turn her back.

"I'm not a criminal!"

"No? threatening __someone with consequences if they don't do what you want is called blackmail, and Lord Deckter chains people out during Fall for that," said Amrys, coldly, and turned on her heel to stride away.

She left a suddenly shocked and frightened girl!


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

Breda was upset as well as frightened.

Amrys plainly despised her; and had almost threatened her! But she did not despise Marra, who was illegitimate and low born. It wasn't fair, and Breda didn't understand! Her father had said that now they had money, they were as good as any minor Holder and his family; and she wanted the lifestyle of a Holder's daughter! It was so strange – Lady Amrys was content to work the longer hours the apprentices must put in, and Lady Barla said her father would not want her to be idle. Surely the whole point of being rich or having position was to have others do all the work for you? It was all wrong!

Were her assumptions about the weyrfolk wrong too?

Breda approached Kelia.

"So, are you going for Impression after this turn away?" she asked.

Kelia laughed. She read honest enquiry in Breda's eyes, and determined to be honest.

"No thank _you!_ Far too much like hard work! Flying Thread in all weathers, day or night, I'd far rather be a lower cavern woman, it's much less work!"

"Oh, but … but what if there's a Queen egg?" asked Breda.

"You got some silly half-baked idea that Queenriders don't do much, huh? You're wrong there, my dear kid. They work harder than anyone, 'cos when they're not fighting Thread they have to do the administrative stuff like Lady Holders, logistics and things, that make my head ache, as well as doing the nice to snotty idiots of Holderfolk who don't have a _clue_ what we actually do, and seem to think we can turn out at a moment's notice to honour some table-sized Hold's piddly little function, or find a lost ovine for them. Lost people we turn out for, there's usually an unblooded Rider, even if Fall is on, like m'sister. But these fools don't realise that just because Threadfall comes every forty-nine days to any one place doesn't mean it doesn't need fighting elsewhere. It falls every fourteen hours across Pern, which means any one Weyr turns out approximately every sixty hours. And telling dimglows this tactfully, and showing them the charts when they don't understand, and hence don't believe it, is too boring! It's not for me, to have that hassle. The prospect of having a Queen dragon just isn't enough to pay for the work, in my opinion!"

"Oh!" said Breda, her illusions toppling around her. Kelia was weyrbred, and ought to know! And if someone weyrbred rejected honour as not being worth it, that was telling!

"Do, er, do you have many Ranking girls come for Queen eggs?" she asked.

Kelia rolled her eyes.

"DO we!" she said, tellingly. "They fall into two kinds, on the whole; those who are there to serve, and all respect to them, I guess, though most of them are half boy, like our Amrys. They're usually decent and well behaved beyond some of the monkey tricks the less mature get up to. Like boys. The other type have come for the wrong reasons, 'cos they've been spoilt, and badly brought up, and think that life owes them idleness and luxury, and they want to look good on a Golden Queen. And if they'd been brought up properly, they'd be used to more duties than idleness." She shot Breda a shrewd look. "You'd get shorter shrift in a weyr than we give you here," she said. "I just love laughing my guts out when some of the fancy pieces are handed shovels to bag firestone, and the looks on their faces!"

"Why do they have to shovel firestone?" Breda was horrified.

"Oh, partly to establish that candidates are the lowest of the low, having no useful skills and not having a dragon yet; and partly to develop the muscle they'll need if they do Impress. Like I said, being a dragonrider is hard physical work; even Sh'rilla, who can't walk, learned to lob firestone sacks to Blooded Riders when she was a weyrling, and swings her flamethrower around like it weighs nothing. I admire Sh'rilla no end for overcoming all that she has," said Kelia, frankly, "and her brother T'rin is a friend of my brother K'len. But I'd not want her job! I have no intention of having enough muscle mass to go flabby as I age, nor to have trouble pissing after turns of constant exposure to _between_! I get the best of both worlds – the good living in the Weyr, respect for being weyrfolk, sexual freedom and no heavy duties. Thought it'd be a soft life as a Queenrider, did you?" she added cynically. "I wish! If it was, I'd stand, I'd like to be idle and lazy, but I'm afraid I just don't have the time!"

oOo

Breda was feeling very confused.

Things were not as she had expected at all, and it should be going much better for her! She was better off than any of the Ranking girls here, or at least, they wore much plainer gowns! Even the Lord Holder's daughter! Though maybe Lord Bargen was just stingy as well as unreasonable about how much he expected his daughter to do!

Breda determined to watch these girls and see what it was that made someone a lady, and why they had not picked on Marra the way they picked on her!

oOo

While Breda was not making a nuisance of herself, the others were willing to ignore her; and started pairing off in friendships. Barla and Marra were never going to be close friends, though Marra appreciated Barla's kind intents towards her. Kelia and Indeela had made friends before anyone else arrived, having similar interests, and as Marra seemed content to spend time with the apprentices, Barla gravitated towards Rulene.

Both girls tended to be accident prone; and when Rulene forgot to try to be ladylike to please her mother, she was a cheerful person who suited Barla's own happy nature. They wallowed cheerfully in romantic tales of handsome dragonriders, Rulene telling the story of how their party of fosterlings found and cared for T'thar, a dragonrider from the Old Time, who had come too far forward. Rulene had done nothing practical herself, dithering in case her mother disapproved; but the situation was romantic!

"Not that Varalie – she's V'lie now – cared," she said, mournfully. "She ended up with my brother, who might have become a Bronze Rider now, but he has no soul above crap and herd improvements!"

Barla sympathised.

Brothers could be very trying, and rarely managed to be romantic, even when, like her brother Tesso, they happened to be in love; and even less so when they fell out of love. Which had happened when Tesso's beloved had been all over Bronze Rider H'llon, as if so fine and upright a man as he would be taken in by a brazen opportunist like her!

What Barla did not know was that H'llon had engineered the situation for friendship to D'rel, Tesso's milk brother, to show the girl up and rescue Tesso from his throes of infatuation. As a result the situation that Tesso had witnessed, of the girl begging H'llon to take her to the Weyr and let her care for him, the job had been effective. Had Kelia been a party to this conversation she could have filled Barla in on what had happened behind the scents, but Kelia was more interested in starting real amatory adventures, than in sighing over romantic situations of impossible matches, or hoping for a good marriage from possible matches. Kelia was certain she could land any senior apprentice or younger journeyman as a lover and wanted to see how many she could have at her beck and call!

She had an unofficial bet on the matter with Indeela; Kelia did share her brother's love of gambling, after all, and knew her own charms were not inconsiderable. Her targets were Larterel, Silger, Mellsi, Hetel, Zayven and Jerellan, who were the ones sporting senior tassels and may have been younger in some cases than Kelia realised; and Journeyman Otelek, who was the real prize. The next three youngest journeymen were around thirty turns, and as all were working weavercrafters who did not teach, she had little opportunity to even meet them, and declared they did not count.

Larterel and Silger were wary of female entanglement after the juniors had made such game of them over their poetic endeavours of the previous turn; but were flattered enough to be enticed into flirtation! Mellsi too was willing enough; Hetel saw Kelia's predatory scalp collecting for what it was and stayed out of her way, and Jerellan still found girls not apprentices too frightening to want anything to do with them. Zayven, a turn older, liked the idea of a girlfriend from the Weyr, as he was half thinking of standing when Jilamon did; but Kelia made the mistake of letting her contempt for the concept of being a Green Rider show, and laughed at Amrys for being just like a weyrbrat. Zayven liked Amrys, and he cooled a lot towards Kelia over that.

Zayven's concepts were simple.

If he Impressed, he'd want to pick a wife – weyrmate, rather – who was also Impressed, and who was at least interested in Weavercraft.

He stopped neglecting his studies for the amusement of Kelia, as she was not worth losing his chance of making Journeyman, and so he pointed out to Larterel and Silger.

Larterel had already been disappointed not to be made up to Journeyman through relying on raw ability over hard work. He took heed, politely but firmly declining invitations to walk out with Kelia when he knew he should be working. Silger told Zayven to mind his own business; he intended to have fun before he had to settle down.

Zayven shrugged.

That was Silger's own problem.

oOo

Journeyman Otelek suffered most from Kelia's determined advances; she advanced on him in class and found excuse to ask him questions out of class 'because he was so much easier to talk to than a Master,' as she cooed at him.

Thus it was that Amrys, having run a message to Journeyman Talanar, who worked at the fulling mill and loved its ingenious gears, was returning to the main Hall. She stopped dead at the sight of Journeyman Otelek dangling by his fingertips from his own bedroom window with a haunted look on his face.

"Hello!" said Amrys. "Most people use the stairs! Is it a new hobby, Journeyman, wall climbing, when there are no cliffs?"

"You pestiferous brat!" said Otelek. "Is the drop far?"

Amrys measured with her eyes.

"About a man's height," she said. "On account of the high ceilings for the tall windows. I don't think I could catch you. Shall I pile some fleeces up from the fleece room?"

"Please," said Otelek, grateful that mountain climbing had made his hands strong and that one of the few apprentices likely to have a sensible idea had happened along.

Amrys was quick with several armfulls of fleeces.

"That ought to stop you from breaking your ankle, anyway," she said. "I'll stand by to steady you."

Otelek dropped, successfully; and helped her put the fleeces back where they were stored in an outbuilding.

"I suppose you want to know why," he said, resignedly.

"Well, it's not really my place to ask, but I am overcome with insatiable curiosity," said Amrys, pulling out another good long word.

Otelek laughed.

"I was fleeing from Kelia," he admitted. "She's determined to add my scalp to her collection and apart from being mightily improper, as I am a teacher of hers, she's not my type."

"Oh!" said Amrys, in perfect understanding. "She needs to have her tush well spanked by a Bronze Rider if you ask me. You'd better not do it, though; you never know if she might enjoy it," she added darkly. "Some girls apparently do, if I understood what she and Indeela were giggling about."

Otelek went scarlet.

"Amrys! I wish you'd occasionally think before you say what's on your mind!"

"Why? Do you want to spank girls?" Amrys was interested.

"No, I don't! You … you're far too knowing sometimes!"

"Yes, I expect that's my blood-father's fault," said Amrys. "He never curbed his tongue in front of me; Corbin says if he was still alive, he'd like to wring his coarse and vulgar throat. I can get her off your back, you know."

Otelek's eyes softened in sympathy; he had heard the tale of Holder Derrinik and his iniquities.

"Can you? How?" he asked, answering her last comment.

Amrys shrugged.

"Tell her you have a hopeless passion for R'rik," she said. "She's weyrbred; she'll just accept it."

Otelek spluttered slightly.

"You … you minx!" he said.

"Yes; it's what you like about me," grinned Amrys. "Well, do you want her off your back, or not?"

Otelek swallowed.

"Yes, I do," he admitted. "So long as it doesn't ruin my future marriage prospects if it gets about!"

"Oh, have you anyone in mind?" asked Amrys, interested. "I thought you might marry Sadvia, but she and Master Telarish seem to be getting on together, so that's out."

"No, I do not have anyone in mind, you horrid brat! Thank you for rescuing me; now go away!"

Amrys ran off laughing, able to explain her tardy return with a clear conscience, as due to doing an errand for Journeyman Otelek on her way back.

She later learned that Kelia had waited several minutes outside Otelek's door, then went in boldly, convinced he was not hearing her knock; and was dismayed to find him gone!

"He likes me, of course," said Kelia, "but he's so shy! I need to break through his reserve!"

"Huh," said Amrys, going over to where Kelia was discussing this with Indeela. "You wouldn't have thought him shy if you'd seen him with R'rik, Kelia! I guess you're just not his type!"

There, she thought, and I haven't even told lies!

Kelia's look of chagrin was a treat.

"What do you mean?" asked Indeela.

"He only likes other men," said Kelia, regretfully. "What a waste! Like your D'vind and Ch'sseri."

"I don't follow you," said Indeela.

"Well, you know! D'vind and Ch'sseri are lovers, weyrmates, like being married!" said Kelia, a little impatiently.

"Two men together? As in for sex? How?" asked Indeela.

"Uh … I'll explain when the kiddy isn't earwigging," said Kelia, flushing. "She's too young to understand."

"Huh, I know all about it," said Amrys. "The dominant man …"

"Never mind," said Kelia, hastily. "You're precocious, you – go and find something useful to do."

Amrys went off whistling to herself reflecting that she had already done something useful.

Journeyman Otelek would have no more trouble from Kelia.

oOo

Kelia was less disappointed than she had been over losing two admirers and finding that Otelek was not going to be one, when she started getting the notes.

Letters were slipped into her bag, or under the dormitory door; and they read along the lines of 'you do not know who admires you from afar but you set my heart aflame.'

Jeral had gone to a lot of trouble to create notes ambiguous enough and intriguing enough to make Kelia take them seriously; and in consequence she was looking around the table in the dining hall to see who might catch her eye and blush or look away. Was it one of the other younger journeymen? Or handsome Master Rakul? The angelically fair Lacemaster's regular good looks and big blue eyes almost made her add him to her list, had she not been aware that tampering with the feelings of important people like Masters might not be politic.

Kelia's heart raced at the thought of a secret admirer, and when she got the note suggesting an assignation in the fleece room, a glorified lean-to, outside the main hall, she was almost sick with anticipation!

Kelia was, however, shrewder than many.

She asked Indeela to come as far as the fleece room and wait outside; she had no intention of letting any man take too many liberties until she was ready for them!

oOo

Indeela was nervous. Suppose some man tried to rape her friend? What was she supposed to do? Should she rush in and try to beat him off? Would she be able to do so? Kelia was so awfully brave, thought Indeela, to risk a fate worse than death!

Kelia herself was nervous; but at least half of it was a pleasurable nervousness! Her worst fear was that her secret admirer might turn out to be Torhal, Torghan's half-wit cousin, who helped in the kitchen. Torhal was at an age where his face was a mass of spots that he made more unsightly by picking at them; and he made Kelia shudder. But he could not seriously have managed to write such literate notes.

Kelia went into the shed.

There was the sound of movement in its dark depths. Really, the fellow might have brought glows! Thought Kelia, crossly.

"Hello?" she said. "Are you here?"

That was a stupid question. Why didn't he speak? She could hear heavy breathing, and suddenly felt frightened. She turned to go, and stumbled into a warm body.

A warm woolly body.

Kelia yelled, and fled; followed by a bleating and confused ovine, who had been incarcerated in the fleece room by a giggling trio of little boys about an hour earlier.

Indeela started shrieking too, in sympathy; and a crowd quickly gathered.

"Kelia! What are you doing?" demanded Otaysa.

"Oh Otaysa! There … there was an ovine in the fleece room!" stuttered Kelia, realising what it was she had had so close an encounter with.

"And whatever were you doing in the fleece room, young lady?" demanded Otaysa, giving the girl a shrewd look as Kelia stuttered and blushed. "Well, you'd better bath: you stink of wether-ovine," said Otaysa.

oOo

Kelia got one more note, in the form of a poem.

"I laid my heart into your hand

And you, me dharlin', held it

And then I bleated plaintively,

I fear,

Me dear,

I'm gelded."

Kelia crumpled it into a ball and threw it hard at the apprentices who were laughing loudest.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

Otaysa scolded Kelia roundly in the privacy of the Gold Dormitory, set aside for paying girls; she soon got to the bottom of the notes and the assignation.

"I suppose at least you had the good sense to take a friend within earshot – but you had _no idea_ who you might have been meeting! Did it never occur to you that one of the apprentices might have been paid to carry notes for someone outside the Hall, which being silly heedless children, some of them, thought nothing of it, if a grown lady, as they saw it, got notes? And if the writer had been a kidnapper? Having a Brown Rider available to do dirty work for fear of harm coming to his sister is the least thing that leaps to my mind! Or for ransom! You silly girl, you've led far too sheltered a life in the Weyr, in some respects – for in the Weyr, everyone knows everyone else, and most people are safe!"

Kelia went white.

She had never seriously entertained the thought that anyone might actually harm her.

"I … it never occurred to me," she said.

"And if it had been some ruthless ruffian, he'd probably have killed your friend, too!" went on Otaysa, "so you put _her_ at risk too! Didn't it occur to you that no decent man would ask a girl to make a private assignation with him? Not unless they already had an understanding, which would be improper, but understandable! What would your mother think about you behaving so foolishly?"

Kelia burst into tears.

She had been prepared for a lecture on the free and easy weyr ways and loose morals; not a frank exposition on the potential dangers to her, her friend, and potentially her brother too! Kelia and K'len may have bickered constantly but they loved each other dearly.

Otaysa had been warned, privately, by H'llon's weyrmate, Z'ira, that Kelia was a little bit silly; and it had given her the ability to drive the message home.

Kelia had learned that, though this had been a harmless prank, there were those people out there who were anything but harmless.

"Well, at least you're not griping at my morals," she said, and winced at herself as she realised she sounded like a sulky little girl.

"My dear girl! I don't expect weyrfolk to operate under the same rules of sexual conduct that Craft or Holderfolk do! It's none of my business, as you are over what the Weyr calls the age of choice, if you slept with the entire unmarried echelon of the Hall all the way down to young Jerellan, if that's what's acceptable to your kin. It becomes the business of the Master if you play games and cause problems to the productivity of the Hall by having them applying more attention to you than to their work. And if you interfered with married craftsmen, that would be my business. Especially if it was my husband. I stand in place of a mother to you here; and I have to tailor my approach according to the likely wishes of a reasonable mother for each girl. So, I would advise you to have discrimination and use herbs to avoid pregnancy while you don't have a convenient dragon to take a pregnancy _between._ "

Kelia blinked.

Otaysa was more open-minded than she had expected!

"Thank you, Otaysa; I'm sorry I caused you trouble," she said in a small voice.

"There, dear, that's a good girl. I'm sure it was fun and exciting. Another time you'll think harder about potential risks!" Otaysa gave the girl a rough embrace; and Kelia hugged her back.

And from that moment, Otaysa had more influence over Kelia than the girl's own mother, who was inclined to nag.

oOo

Jeral, Kyilin and Larek did not escape unscathed.

In addition to shifting fleeces and scrubbing the fleece room floor – the wether had been more scared by Kelia than she had been of him and had made his disgust felt materially – they were sent to apologise to Kelia for sending her up.

Kelia took it fairly well.

"You're horrible scrubs," she said. "I bet you're friends with Amrys!"

Jeral grinned.

"Sure, and isn't she as good as a bhoy," he said.

Kelia sniffed.

"Born to be hanged, the lot of you!" she said. "Don't know why you bothered that poor ovine though; any one of you would have been a frightening sight!"

They went away feeling that the harder part of the punishment had actually gone a lot better than they deserved!

"She's all right, that Kelia," said Kyilin.

"Bonza girl," said Larek.

""Or will be when she's grown out of being daft over men, f'sure," said Jeral.

oOo

The Late Summer Gather was approaching, and apprentices abandoned mischief for mark-making.

The chance to earn a mark or two from finished goods was more alluring than getting into trouble. Naturally, the paying girls wanted to look their best for any handsome visitors, especially dragonriders, and spent much time adorning their own gowns with, in most cases, too much needlework. Primping generally was also the order of the day. Marra had a different goal; she had been asked by Master Lynger to present some small objects to go with the other work by apprentices, and if two out of three were passed as saleable, he would see Lady Varilka about obtaining an apprenticeship instead of the paid turn.

Breda had kept a low profile; but it seemed that important people came to Rivenhill Gathers, and she wanted to make a good impression! If only her hair was golden, or black, not a nondescript mousy colour!

Breda had an idea.

Wool was, after all, no more than the hair of the ovine; and that was dyed in the dyehouse. She would dye her hair!

She picked her time when the apprentices were off with Masterdyer Neen, harvesting dye plants; and slipped into the dye house.

Golden or black – that was the question! Black would be dramatic with her pale skin and dark blue eyes, but blondes always seemed to be popular. Besides, a lot of people in Nabol had black hair, it was quite common.

Accordingly, Breda picked a bottle in the dark dyestore cupboard that held a yellowish mixture; and poured some out into a bowl. Wearing gloves of soft leather, she worked it into her hair, leaving her tresses dipped in it, as she sat with her head hung backwards. She dared not be too long; she was supposed to be knitting with Journeyman Hetney, but had pleaded belly ache. She found the male Masters and Journeymen hastily gave leave for that excuse! But someone would be bound to miss her before long.

Quickly she poured the excess dye away down the drain, something that Neen later howled about in frustration at the wasting of so expensive a dye, and towelled it off roughly, to make her way back.

Master Neen was leading his pupils back, and she met them.

They stared.

A few hid titters and some laughed out loud.

Master Neen looked horrified.

"What the shards have you been doing with my blueweed?" he demanded.

"M … Master?" she was puzzled.

""Why on Pern did you take it into your head to dye your hair blue?" he asked. "Are you insane?"

"Blue? Oh no, it's golden!" she said. Then she looked at the gloves and the stain on the drying cloth.

They were unmistakeably blue.

Ashen, she pulled a lock of her hair over her shoulder.

It was a muddy, but unmistakeable blue.

Breda howled in horror! And fled for her dormitory!

Master Neen was possessed of a keen sense of humour; and after his initial irritation, until he found out how much she had used, he was consumed by mirth at so basic a mistake.

"And there you have, my children," he chuckled to the first-turners, "an excellent example of how blueweed changes colour from the dyebath where it is yellow, to when it is exposed to air and sunlight!"

oOo

Otaysa found Breda howling inconsolably, and totally confused. Otaysa sighed gently over the sheets and pillow slip being blued by the wet hair, and explained the peculiar properties of blueweed to her.

"Oh Otaysa! I only wanted people to _notice_ me!" howled Breda.

Otaysa had to bite back a chuckle; it would be unkind to point out that everyone probably would notice a girl with blue hair.

"Well, it might wash out if you didn't mordant it first – as it's not been boiled in," Otaysa said. "Why don't we go and see? Then we can talk about less, er, drastic beauty treatments for hair; as I could have told you if you had come to me in the first place, instead of experimenting for yourself!"

The blue came out, mostly, and Otaysa snipped the tips that remained stubbornly and steadfastly blue.

"Well, that's easier than overdying it black," she said. "We'll treat it with citrus and chamomile to bring out the natural blonde lights in it. And they ought to deal with any remaining hints of blue too," she added. "Whatever possessed you! And one of the most expensive dyes, too! Master Lynger is going to have to charge your father for what you used, you know!"

"He can afford anything," muttered Breda.

"Well, hope he's not too angry at you for unnecessary expense … if you poured it back carefully into the bottle, it won't have used much," said Otaysa.

"I threw it away," said Breda.

Otaysa gasped.

"My dear girl! Nobody on Pern is wealthy enough to be that profligate!" she cried. "Oh dear! Master Neen is not going to be happy!"

"He laughed at me!" said Breda, "I don't want him to be happy."

"You silly child! What if there had been a big order in from the Harperweyr for Harper Blue cloth? Not only would an expensive dye be gone, we'd be fined for being late on a delivery! And would your father pay _that_ for your silliness, a fine that might reach thousands of marks?" Otaysa said tartly. "Marks aren't everything, but it's a means of keeping score; marks equate to work, and the unpleasant, stinking work that nobody likes doing, at that!"

"Well, if it's stinking nasty work, it's only drudgework, isn't it?" said Breda.

"My girl, you have no idea! It's highly skilled stinking work – only a Master may oversee the production of Harper Blue – and the skilled dyer must live with stinking like a midden for a week after he has done the dyeing. It's not as pronounced as you didn't boil it, but frankly, my dear, you do whiff a bit. And even if it were drudge work, no decent person makes more work for drudges than is necessary! I strongly suggest that you apologise to Master Neen, and tell him that you did not know it was so special; and hope he forgives you, and doesn't ask to have you sent home."

Breda looked horrified; and Otaysa thought it more over having to apologise than fear of being sent home in disgrace.

"I'll come with you," she told the girl.

oOo

Somehow, Breda stumbled through an apology and offered to pay for what she had unwittingly wasted.

Fortunately for her, Master Neen's fury had been short lived, and the funny side stayed with him.

The cost was not entirely the point; for it meant hard work to replace the dye that had been used. But it was a good gesture, and he accepted.

If an order came in, they could at least then purchase Harper Blue from another craft hall; and Breda offered a costly necklace in lieu of having her father contacted, since she was fairly certain that he would not remember what baubles he had bought her as her whim took her.

Breda had now seen another viewpoint about what decent people did – and did not – do; and that, incredibly to her, some people only looked on marks as a way of keeping score, not as proof of being better than others!

oOo

Meanwhile, Master Lynger, having seen the work that Marra had put in, asked if he might have dragon transport to talk to Lady Varilka.

He was visited by B'kas and Geriana, wanting to know why, as they were friends with Varilka, and tactful enough to ask in a non belligerent way.

Lynger was glad to explain, and the two nodded.

"May we help you to explain, sir?" asked B'kas.

Lynger felt rather flattered that a dragonman called him 'sir'.

"Oh, please, Green Rider B'kas; I'd welcome any help on the girl's behalf," he replied.

"It wouldn't be that she only wanted her trained for a turn to get her back sooner as a better drudge; Varilka's not like that," said Geriana. "Some people might, but not her. She maybe didn't know that you take female apprentices; not all crafthalls do, you know."

Lynger nodded, eagerly.

"Let's hope that's it," he said.

oOo

As it turned out, that was indeed the case; Varilka had chosed a crafthall that took paying students near to her High Reaches friends, meaning to ask them to call in on young Marra, when she next spoke to them. She was most distressed to learn that Marra had been made miserable, as Master Lynger knew unofficially. Amrys had plumped herself down in his office to tell him 'off the record, and you never heard this, sir," what was going on.

"Breda and her father! That man is overambitious and pushy!" Varilka said grimly. "And now he's taken to being a travelling marksman not just a trader, not even under my, er, my husband's jurisdiction any more! If I'd know he was going to send her there…"

"I think our Amrys has the girl on a fairly short lead," said Master Lynger, dryly. "Lady Holder Amrys when wearing _those_ knots and apprentice Amrys when wearing _those_ knots. She took up cudgels on Marra's behalf and, er, asked me to ask about transferring her to an apprenticeship."

Geriana chuckled.

"Half bullied, half wheedled in other words if I know young Amrys; she and Sagarra are two pulses from the same pod, born to manage. If she hadn't had a Hold, I wager there might have been a Queen egg somewhere for her!"

Lynger laughed, ruefully.

"Well … yes, as she's not here to hear the admission," he said. "She doesn't ever mean to be cheeky, though, however it sounds; she just means well, and sets about sorting things out."

Varilka laughed.

"Now why does that sound familiar? It would appear that Marra is in good hands. I'd like to see her do well. If you'll take her as an apprentice, and it's what she wants, I'll be very happy!"

"I need to return some of the fee," said Lynger.

"No; if you can use it for a couple of poor but worthy children to learn to make beautiful things, I'd like it to go to sponsor them," said Varilka. "I set the money aside to encourage a talented girl; let it go for others with talent."

"My lady, thank you!" said Lynger, deeply grateful.

"You are welcome," smiled Varilka. "Is it true that you are qualified to weave figured velvets?"

"Yes, my lady," said Lynger, "and potentially a new invention to help with it in the offing!"

"Splendid; then I may have some commissions for you in the future," said Varilka. "To try to get some cohesion in my rather eclectically decorated surroundings. If you can design from drawings of other objects?"

"Like making a repeat pattern echoing the carving on that chest lid that would be suitable for cushions and hangings?" asked Lynger, his nose twitching with pleasure.

"Precisely!" said Lady Varilka.

"It would be a privilege!" said Lynger, happily.

The mission to help a potential apprentice could even end up profitably!


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

The first-turners spread the story of Breda's blue hair, of course; it was too good a story not to tell. It got to the ears of the other paying girls too.

"Wouldn't blue hair have been a better fashion statement if you were at the Harper Hall?" suggested Kelia.

Breda went red and looked close to tears.

Kelia repented.

"Hey, kid, no offence meant, and if the ghastly stuff is yellow to start off with, and weird sounding stuff that is, I guess it's an easy mistake," the weyrbred girl said hastily. "I dunno that blue might not suit you more anyway, with your eyes – if you had the sheer gall to carry it off. It'd certainly be different! I wonder if T'rin – he's a Harper Blue Rider – would do it if I dared him? He's got that wild streak!"

"Oh, surely not!" protested Indeela.

"Whaddya bet I can get him to do it?" said Kelia.

"You Weyrfolk will bet on anything!" said Barla.

"Heh, my brother is the weyrbookie; our weyrartist drew a caricature of him chalking up the odds on Sharath's brown flanks," said Kelia. "As if Sharath would stand for that … K'len's never without his slate, though, to record a bet."

"I feel almost uncomfortable about having three siblings in the Weyr, with that going on," said Rulene. "Mother doesn't approve of gambling."

"Nothing wrong with gambling, as such," said Breda, forgetting her hair. "It's not knowing their limits that makes some gamblers into real losers. My Pa won enough to invest wisely and get rich by betting carefully."

"I guess the trick," said Marra, for Master Lynger had not yet returned with news for her, "Is only to bet what you can afford to lose, and also to make informed choices by knowing something about what you bet on."

Breda opened her mouth to say something scathing, shut it again, and shrugged.

"Well, that's right in principle, I guess, kid," she said, patronisingly. "And not knowing their limits covers those who bet with what they _can't_ afford to lose. Have you ever gambled?"

"I don't have any marks to do so, as you know," said Marra, clearly, "But I like picking the runnerbeasts. Last races Lord Eveny hosted, I picked four winners in a row," she shrugged. "It's just fun to see if you guess right; you don't need to risk your marks on it."

"Shells, girl you could have done plenty well if you'd only put some on!" said Breda. "What did you use to pick them? What criteria?"

"Oh, if they looked eager," said Marra, "You know, that look in the eye, and the … the _feel_ about them."

"Hey, maybe you're part whisperer," said Kelia. "Tell you what, kid, pick a winner for every race, and note down if they win or place, and I'll run a statistical probability on your choices, and see if you're on to something." Kelia had discovered that T'lana's mathematics included skills that were of use to a gambler and had been an assiduous student! She added "And I'll put a quarter mark on every runner you choose, because I'd like to bet anyway, and if they win, I'll split the profit with you, deal?"

"That's more than generous," said Marra.

"It'll be fun," said Kelia.

Bresa was feeling quite gratified. She had been able to have a conversation with the girls without being leaped on for being improper, even though they had teased her about her hair! She could not resist asking Marra, however,

"So, no comment from you about my hair?"

Marra looked at her thoughtfully.

"If you cared less about your outward appearance and thought more about other people, you'd be so much prettier, 'cos you wouldn't pull such awful grimaces and get sneer lines," she said. "I don't actually care what you look like or if your hair is green with pink stripes in it."

Breda stared, open mouthed.

"Y'know, the kid has no tact, but she has a point, young 'un," said Kelia to Breda. "You picked up some odd ideas; but if you just looked on the world expecting to find it good, you'd look more contented, and contented people stay good looking longest. It is one of the advantages of Impression, I suppose. Men, of course, who are content tend to put on weight. T'bor has to watch his waistline! But that's just like a man, very little between the ears other than contemplation of the next meal."

Breda just nodded.

There was more to being a lady than being rich and having the right skills.

oOo

Marra was summoned to Master Lynger's office; and returned beaming all over her face to pack her things.

"What, surely not being sent home?" asked Breda. She was surprised; but maybe Amrys had spoken to her parents and they had taken a dimmer view of a drudge associating with the Ranking than their strange little daughter. In a way that would almost be a disappointment, because it would confirm what she had thought she had known, not what she was learning.

Marra grinned happily.

"Oh, no! It seems that Lady Varilka didn't know I could have a proper apprenticeship, so now I'm to learn everything, and not just the stuff they can trust even paying students not to make too much of a mess of!"

"Cheeky," said Kelia, without rancour.

Marra beamed at her.

"Apprentices are s'posed to be," she said. She was bubbling over with pleasure and forgot to be shy.

Kelia was fairly certain that the barbed comment had been aimed at Breda anyway, not the rest of them.

"Well, best of luck, kid," the weyrbred girl said. "I hope you enjoy it."

"Well, I guess I don't need a job to train for," said Breda, half envious that Marra was accepted and not about to show it.

"Nope," said Amrys, coming into the room. "I've come to help you with your stuff, Marra, by the way. No, Breda, you don't need a job. You can do what a farrowing sow does every spring, with as much training as she, once you've caught your boar. No need to use your brains at all; which is just as well."

"What do you mean?" demanded Breda, furiously.

"Well if you had any brains, you'd have figured out by now that your histrionics – isn't that a nice word? – and new wealth don't impress anyone at all. And you'd maybe have asked how a lady is supposed to behave instead of acting like a loving wench who caught an elderly Holder and thinks that the only way to feel above other people is to put them down, thereby making all her underlings despise her. You're uncomfortable in Ranking society, or you wouldn't put on such foolish airs and pretend to be high and mighty. Politeness is the prerogative of princes, you know; prince is an archaic word for Ranking. If you want to learn, you can come and talk to me, otherwise, stay the fardles out of the way of _all_ the apprentices. Is that everything, Marra?"

"Just my workbag."

"Good, we can manage it all between us," Amrys nodded to the other girls. "Have a nice day, ladies, try not to feel to disheartened that you're only paying students."

"Pest," said Kelia. "I swear, you're _worse_ then Sagarra!"

Amrys laughed.

"More apprentices around me to encourage me than there are weyrbrats around her," she said.

oOoOo

Rillys and Corbin wanted Jilamon and Amrys to be a part of opening the Gather; and had asked Master Lynger if they might have their offspring to be official.

Lynger was happy to agree; Lady Amrys was a crafter only until she confirmed, after all, and had other duties as Lady Holder.

Master Braelek had sewn Summer Gather clothes for the youngsters, and they wore them for the opening. Jilamon wore a pale blue linen shirt, embroidered in a darker blue and in white, with dark blue trews; Amrys had a gown of cream damasked with pink in patterns of figure-of-eight knots at the meeting of diamonds, and pink wherry-flowers between. It was very pretty, and Amrys wore with it to guard against the heat, a wide-brimmed had of straw, bleached to the colour of the gown, with a pink ribbon around it. Jilamon's straw was a serviceable and masculine dark blue.

oOo

Rillys and Corbin were proud of their handsome children, as they declared the Gather open. Trading had already begun, of course! But the official opening also declared that the Hog Roast was also open. There were cheers.

A young man approached Amrys and bowed gallantly; and she recognised him as the southern fosterling whom she had rescued from the result of his own foolish antics on thin ice.

"My lady!" he said. "Though of tender years, you promise to be an unforgettable beauty! May I reserve a dance this evening?"

Amrys regarded him meditatively.

"No, I don't think so," she said. "I couldn't guarantee you're not as inept at dancing as you are at skating."

"My lady! Who can have been so unkind as to say I am an inept skater?"

"Me. I saw it with my own eyes. Your jumps are heavy and you're stupid enough to ignore safety notices. And I guess you're also a liar because if my beauty was unforgettable, I should think that one face you ought to remember is the one you clawed at when you were panicking; the face that hauled you out of that hole in the ice you put yourself in. Oh, do shut your mouth; it makes you look more like a landed packtail than you did up as the Esvay Falls."

"But … but that was a scrubby apprentice brat!"

"Yup, that's me. Apprentice Weaver Amrys, hoping to make Journeyman before I'm confirmed as Lady Holder. Some of us think that Blood obligates, beyond making silly objects of ourselves in front of sillier friends. Don't ever think of courting me, I want a husband who can achieve more than one thought a turn, and if you talk to me again, I'll write to Lord Sangel and ask him to keep his ovines at home." And she stalked off.

"Well, I don't see any difference between you politeness and mine, there!" said Breda, who had been hanging around and had eavesdropped shamelessly.

Amrys grinned.

"But then there's history between him and me. I was horridly rude to him, wasn't I? He has tried to drown me though, so fair's fair."

"Tried to _drown_ you?"

"The idiot was showing off, went past the notice warning of dodgy ice. He went through. Zayven held Jilamon and Jilamon held me, and I threw the idiot my scarf – which was ruined, by the way – and he kept trying to grab at me, which would have dragged me in too, as I told him, and maybe Jilamon too. And were he and his friends in the least bit grateful? Were they, fardles! Silly wherries, all the girls did was scream! Is that the sort of Ranking you want to be? Useless articles who think themselves great purely for their birth? It's all they have, I assure you, birth, for there's nothing between the ears! They exist, I fear, and I despise them!"

"I … I guess I wouldn't like that," said Breda. "I … I want to own Runnerbeasts!" she added in a rush.

"Heh, well, you could do a lot worse than foster a turn with Tragen," said Amrys. "But you'll work as hard as, and alongside, his stableboys. A lot of work goes into caring for Runners, and if you don't know all the jobs, you've no real right to own them. Even Zeleika has a passing understanding of what to do, though she's more interested in them as commodities than as beasts! Same as how a Holder's wife should know how to scrub floors, lay fires, cook, launder and sew before she presumes to order others to do it. How can you tell someone to perform a task if you don't fully understand the task they're performing? You don't know if they're doing it right."

"Do … have you done all that?"

"Of course! Mother expects me to know my duty properly," said Amrys, "and I've a passing acquaintance with economics too, though I'll learn more about Hold accounting as I get older. However much income a Hold has, it has to be used carefully, as profligacy leads to poverty. A trader's daughter must know that already; your father doesn't buy more than he can sell, or fails to buy what he thinks he can shift, even if that means gambling on taking a loan. In a hold, you don't buy in more than can be eaten, even at bargain prices, unless you have a way to preserve it. Because there'll be waste, and waste is profligate, and the bargain is totally lost. Your early training will help you there, it's a good grounding. And you'll understand, too, how to dicker with traders and craftsmen to get the best price. Tradercraft is a useful thing to know."

"Oh!" said Breda. "My father said if I learned all the right things I could live in luxury and never have to do anything!"

"Well, your father can't know many Holder's wives I guess," said Amrys. "and how boring! Do you really want to have nothing to do but embroider cushion covers and play the gitar? I bet Lady Varilka oversees all that goes on – how else would she have noticed Marra's good work? The sooner you get over being jealous of her, the better!"

"Jealous of _her?"_

"Jealous of her," said Amrys. "You're jealous that Lady Varilka noticed her and was prepared to sponsor her; and jealous that she's good enough to warrant it. Maybe sewing isn't your talent; maybe caring for Runnerbeasts is. Think about it. If you're prepared to work for what you care about, I'll respect you for it, and I'll respect you if you also knuckle down to learn what you can this turn to be as good as you can be. And if you really hate it, well, Tragen takes his fosterlings at Turnover, and I can have words with the right people to have you included. But good sewing and weaving skills are good for any woman to have, you know!"

"Father wanted me to go to the Harper Hall."

"Tragen has a Master Harper and quite a little Harper Hall at his Hold. They work closely with the Harperweyr too," said Amrys. "For extra tuition in singing, dancing and an instrument, I'm sure arrangements could be made. From what I've heard, the Harper Hall panders to ninnies who can't hold a tune in a sack and they don't have to do much. You'd be bored silly. And I think there's a nicer girl inside you than the one I've been being rude to. You've been a bully but I think you can get over it or I wouldn't be troubling to talk to you now. Your father let the marks go to his head, and drive out his shrewd trader brains for a while, I guess – and encouraged you to do the same! I expect he wants the best for his little girl, as the best fathers do! But I don't think he really knows the best way to do well by you. He's speculating in a market that's new, like a mountain man trying to trade in fish. He and you need to learn how the market works before you go out to trade for a suitable husband."

"You make it sound so mundane!"

"It is. Most Ranking marriages are made with an eye to alliance. If your father is rich, a Holder may look on him as a means to expand his Holding, exchanging that for giving you position. It really can be that coldblooded! And the way you spoke, you seemed to expect that your wealth would buy a Ranking husband! I'd like to marry for love, but I'm not naïve enough to expect more than friendship and affection even if I may hope to have something as close as Rillys and Corbin have. But I've a wide sphere of contacts, and I could marry within the weavercraft, too, without it being looked down on, because the Hold hosts the Craft. Eyebrows would be raised if I wanted to marry someone without Rank, unless he was at least a Journeyman of a craft that was loosely associated with the hold, and I don't know if I could do it even if I wanted to. It's my blood that counts, so I guess if I fell in love with a … a caprine herder, I could just produce babies and not wed. On the whole, though," Amrys added thoughtfully, "people tend to stay in lowly occupations 'cos they haven't the brains or the inclination to get out, since boys at least can try for apprenticeship. Girls have fewer options; less crafts take them, at least, not willingly. And it's only recently the Weyr took girls for Green dragons."

"So you don't actually think a lot of drudges and labourers?"

"I never said that. I said they tend not to be very clever. The exceptions, like Marra, hopefully get noticed and get a hand up. But whether they are clever or not, I respect them for doing their job according to their duty and ability. I would not disrespect them by making extra work for them by being untidy, or by pushing them around. That would be most ill bred. Everyone has their place; and it's proper to respect someone for fulfilling that place, you know. And to respect, too, those with aspirations to rise. I don't dislike the idea of you wanting to marry into the Ranking, I I dislike the way you think you ought to behave as Ranking. And I despise and loathe those who are Ranking that behave like that, 'cos they ought to know better. You have the chance to learn. And a real lady would apologise to Marra for being bullying, and would be big enough to explain about being jealous of her abilities, because deep down you realise that money can't buy talent. Which is what it's all about. But perseverance can buy ability; and is worthy of respect."

"I – I'll think about what you've said," said Breda.

"You do that," said Amrys, "and act naturally to her, me, and all the others alike, and you might just find that you make Ranking friends instead of me trying to escape you being sycophantic and determinedly presuming on me being informal. Forcing yourself on someone is bound to make them dislike you, you know! 'Scuse me, I have to make pretty at our more distinguished visitors; mother is beckoning."

And she left Breda with even more to ponder.

Amrys did not think she would ever find Breda likeable, but if she could have some of her ideas adjusted, she might at least become bearable!


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

With Marra in Green Dormitory, the partition had been taken down. The idea of Upper and Lower Green with just seven little girls so close in age seemed silly. On Sadvia's suggestion, and with her skill, it had been made into a folding screen that locked back between the two windows, to give the option of partitioning in the future.

Master Lynger was beginning to think towards a time of expansion; the hall had become very successful, very quickly, and soon there would need to be more room for the female apprentices as they grew in number. He had seen the Printcraft Hall with its loggia and courtyard for exercise in all but the coldest weather, and thought of asking for help from the minercraft builders to build a loggia that was sturdy enough to have rooms atop it, on the inside of the corridor that ran around the upper storey. The common room would remain big enough; it ran much of the length of one side, the rest of the length being the senior common room. But further dormitories would be useful. A dedicated pair of dormitories for Ranking paying students would not come amiss, with the option of taking boys from next turn as well as girls, and freeing the current Gold dormitory for senior female apprentices into the bargain. Another two dormitories available opposite the extant ones would permit, if need be, upper and lower sections to Brown and Blue dormitories, though in these cases the dormitories would be based more on position in class than in the making of extra classes. Or even on age. Or maybe he might just number the dormitories as well as call them by colour. Time enough to worry about it when there were more than a dozen boys at each level – as one day he hoped, and indeed believed there would be! If he was going to have to expand, it was better to do it all at once; and soon, too, he would need extra Journeymen's quarters, and married quarters, that might go on the corridor opposite the infirmary and proposed new Ranking quarters. The infirmary already was built on the outer side of the courtyard with the main stairs and female necessaries and bathroom upstairs too.

The other alternative was to add a second courtyard, with effectively three more whole wings to it. That way there would be even more room for expansion, and the non-teaching journeymen might be moved at a distance from the apprentice dormitories. And more married quarters could be purpose built. It would give more living room for the support staff too, and enable them to live upstairs in a wing above the extension from the kitchen block. There would be more workrooms downstairs, which would be needed for the new brocade looms Sadvia was busy building to the design of H'llon and R'rik.

Lynger nodded to himself.

A loggia would be nice; but a second courtyard was the priority. And loggias round each courtyard then a possibility for subsequent expansion. With a decently long summer and autumn, it should too be substantially completed before the new intake at Turnover; and ready by the time he would take in more paying students next summer.

There was to be one more paying student this turn.

As Marra was moving into a real apprenticeship, Lynger had been receptive when he had been contacted by Lord Larad's steward about a niece of the Telgar Hold's Lord Holder. It was not encouraging to be told that 'My Lord feels that a little discipline would be good for the girl." From the Bloodline that had bred Thella, Kylara and a girl whose name escaped Lynger who had been sent home from the Harper Hall in disgrace, that might be a somewhat unpleasant experience; but he could not in honesty now plead a lack of room. Indeed, with six beds in what had been planned as a twelve-bed dormitory there was plenty of room, and one might even add a couple of beds and still house them in comfort even from the point of view of a Lord Holder's niece. They might then even take in a couple of girls for a half turn at Turnover. However, now they had a new girl coming who might be a nuisance, and in case of trouble, Lynger determined to have Otaysa welcome the girl, Fenoria, personally. Otaysa would take no crackdust.

oOo

The dragon from Telgar arrived; two big carisacks were dropped off after the two girls who scrambled down, and the dragon took off again before Otaysa could reach where it had landed as if afraid he might be forced to take them back.

One of the girls was richly dressed and was busy dragging off a heavy wherhide flying jacket and overboots; the other, with a meagre bag of her own strapped to her back, wore only a thin, faded dress and sandals.

She was quite blue with cold.

With an exclamation, Otaysa ran forward and started chafing the girl's cold hands.

"Oh don't worry about her, she's only my drudge. The lower orders make such a fuss!" drawled Fenoria.

"If she dies of cold, my girl, you'll be worrying," said Otaysa, grimly. "I'd like to see you come _between_ inadequately clad, you irresponsible little madam! I'll be speaking to you later. Come, child, let's get you into a hot bath – oh, Amrys!"

Amrys could not resist hanging about.

On due consideration she had put on her Rank knots as well as her apprentice ones.

"Shells! Some stuck up piece don't understand that Blood obligates," said Amrys. "C'mon, kiddie, hot bath, klah and decent clothes for you – I didn't know Telgar was so poor a Hold it can't afford to clothe its people properly! I'd be ashamed to be a Holder where all the support staff don't have adequate clothing."

And, thought Otaysa, Amrys can say what perhaps I cannot, bless the child!

"How dare she denigrate my Hold?" cried Fenoria.

"One judges on what one sees, my girl," said Otaysa, "and all the drudges in Lady Amrys' Hold have adequate clothing according to their task – including flying kit, as I have seen, if sent off to tackle problems that requires them to go dragon back when helping with Mountain Rescue, as this Hold does, to support the Weyr. Now pick up your bags and follow me, and I'll fill you in on the rules on the way. I'm Otaysa; I'm house mother to all the girls here, paying ones and those with apprenticeships. I stand in the stead of your mother, and I'm very displeased that you ignored the instructions and brought a drudge."

"But obviously I brought a drudge! Who else is going to help me dress and do my mending?"

"What? A big girl of fifteen turns can't dress herself? Why, I'd be ashamed of a child of mine who couldn't dress by five turns old! As to your mending, that's one of the things you're here to learn."

"Don't talk to me like that, woman!"

Otaysa stopped in her tracks.

"The next time you call me 'woman' in that insolent tone, my girl, I put you over my knee and slipper you. And you've left your bags in the middle of the field."

"You have no right to speak to me like that!" the girl whined.

"I have every right. I told you, I stand in the place of a mother; and Lord Larad wrote to warn us that you needed strict discipline. You will get it. And your bags are still in the middle of the field."

Fenoria paled. That Lord Larad had written this was news to her; and made it impossible to write to her illustrious uncle and complain.

"You can apologise for a start," said Otaysa, "and then you can go pick up your bags."

"I'm sorry if I was out of line," said Fenoria, sulkily. "Won't drudges bring my bags?"

"Great Shells, girl, waste drudges' time when you've two healthy arms on you? I'll wait here for you to fetch them. They can't be heavy as you were obviously expecting that skinny, ill-cared-for child with you to bring them."

Fenoria was furious.

"But I have _never_ carried anything for myself!"

"Then it's about time you learned how, isn't it?" said Otaysa, implacably. "Fetch them; or start to smell as you run out of clean underlinen. That'll really make you popular in the dormitory."

Fenoria dragged back unwillingly and tried to lift the bags. She promptly dropped one, and struggled over to Otaysa, her face set and her rosebud mouth compressed.

"Someone will have to bring the other one," she said.

"That someone will be you," said Otaysa. "If you can't handle it, you should [] not have brought so much stuff. You carry this one up, and then go back for the other. It won't do you any harm; there's a pasty look to you that could do with some exercise."

Fenoria was horrified! She was proud of her plump prettiness with pink-and-white skin, blue-grey eyes and fine golden hair; and to be called pasty by some lowborn was too much!

"I'm not accustomed to be spoken to so!" she snapped.

"What, with brutal honesty? Then it's about time you learned. You don't want the apprentices calling you Fatty Fenny or something equally derogatory do you?"

"You would have them punished, surely?"

"Speech is free. If they start ragging you, that's different; it verges on bullying. But giving you a nickname amongst themselves is nothing to punish for – especially if they keep it from your ears," said Otaysa. "They will comment on your overfed body in contrast to the skinny piece you call your drudge, and they'll judge you by that, you know."

"They have no right! I'll not be judged by lowborns!"

"Get one thing straight, my girl. The apprentices are here by right of merit. We take paying students as a favour to the Ranking who have daughters of too limited ability to do it properly," said Otaysa. "And of the people who will be doing the judging, there are four Ranking apprentices and three weyrbred, if that counts for you. Lady Amrys for one, is a full time apprentice and SHE's seen your drudge and how she came in without flying kit. Dear me, I suppose the girl will have to stay overnight before we send her back."

"But I _need_ her!"

"Oh? You'll share your bed with her, then?" asked Otaysa. "we can put up a bed in your space, but it will make it a little cramped, you know."

"I'll not have a dirty drudge sleep near me!"

"Well, she goes back, then," said Otaysa. "You can't have it both ways. Dear me, your Hold must be poor if the poor girl is dirty; you'd have thought you could have afforded sweet sand, even if lyesoap or hard soap is beyond you. Now here's your dormitory," and she opened the door after knocking. "Girls, Fenoria of Telgar."

Otaysa then retreated hastily and applied her ear to the keyhole.

It was another shock to Fenoria, who had not even heard the word 'dormitory' and had expected a room of her own.

"But – but I can't be expected to share with all these _lowborns!_ " she wailed.

The pretty girl who was brushing out her golden brown hair regarded her with narrow eyes.

"Lowborns, eh? Who's lowborn?"

"You all are! You must be! I'm the niece of a Lord Holder – Lord Holder Larad of Telgar!"

Kelia's eyes narrowed even more.

"Then, my fine child, if you take note of Rank, everyone here outranks a halfblood extra whose main claim to fame is being related to a Renegade Holdless murderess and a woman responsible for killing two Queen dragons!"

Fenoria flushed.

"How dare you!"

"I dare because it's true," said Kelia, coldly. "Larad had two legitimate sisters, one who is too young to have produced you. I _know_ all of Kylara's children, and some of them are friends of my brother. So by deduction, you are in descent of one of Lord Tarathel's side issues; in other words, a half-blood. And the way you speak sounds more like Thella and Kylara than a decent type like Lord Larad or Famira."

"Absolutely" said Indeela; Fenoria saw her as another older girl with chestnut hair and big brown eyes. "Famira is married to my cousin, Asgenar, and she's nothing like a rude brat like you. And by the way, Amrys already ratted you up about the treatment of your drudge."

"Good kid, Amrys," drawled Kelia. "I'm Kelia, by the way; I'm head of the dorm by election of everyone else, and as I'm weyrbred I outrank everyone else here of right. Indeela is cousin to major and daughter of minor and is legitimate. Barla is the legitimate daughter of Lord Bargen of High Reaches; Rulene is the legitimate daughter of a Holder, and more importantly she's the sister of a Bronze Rider and a Brown Rider. Breda is also legitimate, and the daughter of a clever and shrewd man who could run rings round most of the overbred Blood idiots."

Breda might not have been Kelia's favourite person, but the girl had been behaving better and trying to settle in and learn, and hence deserved the fillip of knowing that she had value in the eyes of the others especially next to a rude and spoilt girl. Kelia added,

"This, Breda, is the perfect bad example of Ranking wenches who don't actually have a real position and so sit around worshipping their own Blood – or half-blood – because they're incapable of doing any more. They're two a mark at the Weyr, thinking they might Impress, and we all laugh at them."

"It isn't fair! You're all being horrid to me!" Fenoria whined.

"Actually most of the others were too shocked by your behaviour to know what to say; _I'm_ being horrid to you," said Kelia. "And if you stop being daft we'll be nicer. But start insulting us and we will all give as good as we get. You'd better unpack your bag and get your kit away."

"But … but where's my drudge? I can't put my own things away!" cried Fenoria.

"Shells, how _feeble_ ," said Barla, turning up her nose. "Telgar isn't much good at breeding useful females, is it? Famira excepted, of course, Indeela, dear. I expect the child you damaged is in the infirmary, hoping to have her feet and hands saved. If you will treat your servants carelessly, you can't expect them to function you know."

Fenoria pulled the things out of her bag and looked at them helplessly.

"Shells, didn't you pack any underlinen?" asked Kelia.

"It's in the other bag, I suppose," said Fenoria, sulkily. "That woman Ot – something – said I had to carry them both! _I'm_ not going back for it!"

"You'll smell, then," said Kelia. "For if Otaysa told you to fetch both, you'll fetch both – or leave it out to be eaten by Thread. It's due overnight, you know! And the apprentices will be warned not to do it for you if you were told; and we do _not_ give orders to the Hall drudges, in case you're so bad with your memory that you forgot that as well as Otaysa's name. And," she added, "don't you even dare to disrespect a Master's wife set over us as our House Mother. She's kind and caring and is there to take care of us as a mother should – and she's a sight better at it than some of our own mothers."

Fenoria burst into tears.

"But I _can't_ carry another one!" she wailed.

Breda spoke up.

"Look here, I'll help you carry it; but don't think it's out of deference because you're no better than anyone else. I've learned that it's self worth that counts, not Blood, nor wealth. And by the way if you let me take all the weight, I'll drop the handle too," she added. "Come on; quicker started, sooner finished."

Kelia gave Breda a nod of approval; the girl was really trying.

"Nicely offered, kid," she said. "After all, if she's been badly brought up, she can't help being a feeble object, as Barla called her."

Fenoria started spluttering.

"How dare you call me feeble?" she demanded.

"Well, ain't ya?" said Kelia.

"Don't rise … come on," said Breda, laying a hand on Fenoria's arm.

Fenoria stared at it.

"Take your lowborn hand off me," she said. "Lowborns smell."

Breda stared.

"Not as much as you will without undies," she said. "I withdraw my lowborn offer of lowborn help; you won't want any lowborn hands on your bag handle, after all." And she turned away.

"Nicely done," murmured Kelia. "As much dignity as the best of the Blood."

Breda flushed in pleasure.

Praise from the Weyrbred girl was worth having!

oOo

Since nobody else offered to help, being shocked by Fenoria's rudeness and not wanting anything to do with her, the girl went sullenly down to drag up the other bag.

She had no idea how to fold clothes properly; and could not fit all her belongings into the clothes press assigned to her. She was crying with frustration when Otaysa came in.

"Great shells, child, have you no concept of civilised living?" cried Otaysa. "You've jumbled those things in with as much abandon as a heedless ten-turn-old boy! Now take them all out and start again. The rest of you may go to the Harper to sing; it'll take half the evening to sort out this green firelizard's nest!"

"I never put my own things away before!" wailed Fenoria.

"Then you won't learn any younger," said Otaysa. "I'll show you how; then you can sort them out and I will watch to see you do it properly. Though I can't see why you have three Gather Gowns; choose which one you want, and I'll put the other two in your bag, out of the way in the loft."

"But they're everyday gowns!" protested Fenoria.

"Ridiculous! You can't work a loom with all these dangling bits – _so_ unstylish! – to catch in it! We'll start your lessons with running up a couple of nice plain work gowns. Don't worry, dear, you're here to learn how to understand style and fashion too, and how to choose appropriate clothes, not dress always in your best finery like a cotbred-girl who always wears her best in public, regardless of how unsuitable it is."

This was a little unfair, for the girl's Gather gown was even more excessive, with figured velvets and brocades in layers showing through each other for effect. Otaysa however did not want the girl risking herself with catching frills and furbelows in the more technical looms that she would not be used to!

The evening was not a pleasant one for Fenoria.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

Amrys, meanwhile, had half carried the frozen drudge to the Hall.

"We need to heat you up slow but sure," the little girl said. "What's your name?"

"Molly, my lady," the teeth chattered.

"Yes, _between_ is just the coldest … even coming out into the ridiculous heat of a High Reaches summer," said Amrys. "What silly idiot let you come without wherhide stuff?"

Molly stared.

"Wherhide is not for drudges, my lady!" she said. "Surely you wouldn't put drudges in wherhide?"

"To fly _between_? Of course I fardling well would!" said Amrys indignantly. "It might not fit very well, but we have clothes for anyone to draw if they are travelling dragonback! Do you take me for … Oh, I suppose you do, as that thing you came with seems quite idiotic and I'm wearing my Rank knots to squash the pretentious. I thought Lord Larad was supposed to be a decent type who cared for his people," she added scornfully.

Molly flushed.

"He probably does; except that drudges don't count as people for most Ranking," she said. "And besides, My Lady Fenoria and her parents have their own suites of rooms."

Amrys sniffed; and opened the bathing room door.

"Right; I'll get warm water in there and add hot; strip off! I'll get you some nicer clothes too – that dress looks like more mend than cloth! Has she no pride in the appearance of her menials even if she don't care for you as a person, silly clunch as she is?"

"No, I … I suppose not," said Molly. "I'm invisible."

"Huh," said Amrys. "I SAY! She strikes you too?" the young girl had bruises and welts on her back and buttocks.

Molly shrugged.

"Well, lady, I guess I'm glad she don't take much exercise or she'd strike harder." She shot Amrys a shrewd look. "You'd not be wanting a drudge yourself, lady?"

"Me? Never had one, I can shift for myself," said Amrys. "Oh, sorry, you mean, will I offer you a job so you can escape?"

"Well … yes," Molly flushed.

"I'll have to think about that," said Amrys. "Here; you lie and soak for a while. I'll be back in a minute," and she whirled off with her customary vigour.

That Molly had been less intimidated by her managing attitude than shy Marra spoke something for the girl's independent mind; and Amrys was formulating a plan.

First however she made a quick visit to the Gold Dormitory to tell the girls about Fenoria's arrival with an ill-treated drudge – she could rely on Kelia's indignation over bringing someone ill-clad _between_ , the results of which Fenoria duly felt– then she went to her own coterie to put together sundry garments for the dressing of Molly.

When she returned, the girl was luxuriating in hot water, her head right back.

"Shall I help you wash your hair?" asked Amrys. "It looks like it needs it, I'm afraid!"

Molly jerked up into a sitting position, embarrassed to be caught relaxing.

Amrys laughed.

"Enjoying a bath isn't a crime! Shells, are you telling me you don't often get one?"

"This is the first hot bath I've ever had," ventured Molly. "Well, the first real bath, actually. We have a bucket of cold water to wash quickly as best we may; and I give most attention to my hands because my lady wouldn't like dirty finger marks on her mending."

Amrys said a few short and ugly words.

"And what madam wants is a few pink finger marks on her fat tush," she opined. "Back you go; I've got a nice piece of woodcrafter lyesoap here, 'cos H'llon makes it and he's next thing to being kin. I'll do your hair and you can have a nice body scrub with it after."

Turns of ingrained grime never properly washed off turned the bathwater brown, and Amrys cheerfully refilled the bath.

"Wow, you so have got pretty hair!" she gasped.

"Have I?"

"Oh yes! My dear Molly, you're a beauty under all that; no wonder she wanted you dirty, you quite show her up! Your hair – have you never seen it clean?"

Molly shook her head.

"I suppose it's brown," she said.

"You suppose wrong! It's the most glorious auburn – a shade or two darker than T'lana's, but just as vivid – and your skin, I reckon, will be a lovely shade and texture when we've got you fed up a bit! Your eyes would be perhaps lovelier if they were a darker blue, but they've plenty of life in them," said Amrys, surveying ice-blue eyes critically. "And when we have some colour in your cheeks they'll show up better too. Here, I got you some of our mixed clothes; and stuff to replace anything as bad as you were wearing," her eyes flicked to the meagre bag. "And it's my guess that with your bright hair in decent clothes _she_ won't even recognise you! You can bed down with us apprentices overnight and the Master will decide what to do about you in the morning."

"Oh _please,_ lady, _please_ don't send me back! They'd punish me for deserting her, and probably for looking decent too, like drudges shouldn't!" she held out imploring hands.

Amrys took her hands.

"I'll tell the Master," she said. "I won't let him send you back. If nothing else, I'll send you to work for my mother; she's a kind lady and having a willing girl to help with my little sisters would be a good thing. Now! Tell me quickly, have you any relatives they can hurt to punish you for being elsewhere? Now we have some friends in Telgar Weyr they could pull them out on excuse of Search."

Molly shook her head, the amazement showing on her face that dragonmen should do such things, and that anyone should think of it.

"I'm a drudge's bastard, and so far as I know, my mother's probably dead," she said. "I was taken from her when I was about eight, to drudge for my lady."

"Words quite fail me," said Amrys, "and that's a rare occurrence, I assure you! Can you read and write?"

"Yes, Lady. I picked up a bit when my lady was having lessons. I had to be there to run errands for her."

"Heh, bright, too … c'mon to Green dormitory and meet the others," said Amrys.

Molly found herself rapidly introduced to the others, each with a potted history of what Amrys saw fit to tell her, which in Clareena's case was not a lot, and left to settle in while Amrys whisked off to seek the Master. The others, being used to Amrys, didn't turn a hair.

"Sure, and we'll help you unpack, so we will," said Lyssa. "And hasn't that scamp Amrys just crammed the things we sorted into this bag anyways! Ye might as well unpack and put it in the press, for when Amrys has that managing look in her eye, things generally happen."

"She sorted me out to be a real apprentice," said Marra. "Do you want to be an apprentice, Molly?"

"I don't know," said Molly. "It has to be better than drudging for my lady, Fenoria. And a craft at the end of it. I sew well enough, I guess!"

Molly was a cynic; it was hard to accept someone of Amrys' Rank being nice to her, and for the time being she was prepared to grab any gift and comfort offered her, and scheme to get more. The question was, would it be a better life to drudge for a kind lady, if she was kind to drudges as well as to her daughter, with some childcare duties, or whether it would be an easier life as an apprentice. And having a craft out of it that could pay well for the putting in of some hard work.

"You'd probably better stay down a turn if you do join, 'cos of coming late," said Clareena. "But I'm to stay down because … because I've been ill."

"I don't know if I'll make the grade to move up or not," said Marra. "My sewncraft is good, but I'd only done a little weaving, and of course no dyeing or printing. But it's no problem; they bring you on in what you're weak in! Have you ever done any knitting or lacecrafts?"

Molly shook her head.

"A little knitting, but not the other things. I've just been there to mend clothes and do some embroidery."

They seemed really keen, these girls, she thought, to persuade her to better herself. And a craft meant independence, and that surely had to be better than any amount of kind mistresses, who might die, and leave one at the mercy of harsher relatives. Molly was quite unafraid of independence! This was the opportunity of a lifetime, now it was sinking in what was possible, and if she was offered it, she would buckle down to work and not waste it.

"I'm not afraid of hard work to catch up," she said.

"Good kid," said Bretine. "Actually, I think you might be older than us, so calling you a kid is almost cheek, but it doesn't count for that much as Amrys is still head of the dorm."

"Oh, for her Ranking?"

"Fardles to that!" said Bretine, snapping her fingers. "If that were so it'd be me as I'm weyrbred. No, it's Amrys 'cos she is the champion interferencer and organiser as well as being the first apprentice here along with Kevanna, and she's the sort of person people go to with their troubles. If she wasn't Lady Holder of Rivenhill here, and only waiting to grow up to confirm, she'd have made a smashing Queen Rider!"

"Well, I've just turned fourteen; a month or so past, I think," said Molly. "Ma told me I was a midsummer babby."

"I'm almost fourteen so there's only a few months between us," said Bretine, "and Amrys is twelve, going on twenty and with more sense than most grown up candidates to Queen eggs I've ever seen."

"Do you think they'll let me stay?" asked Molly, dubiously.

"Sure, and d'ye not think that's what our own dharlin' Amrys is off t'fix roight now?" said Lyssa. "And won't she present such good reasons t' the Master 'til the poor man's head is swimming and he gives in for a quiet life?"

"Lyssa! The Master is _not_ going to let himself be bullied by Amrys!" said Kevanna.

Janika gave her quiet chuckle.

"But she has such er, _cogent_ arguments!" she said.

Kevanna regarded her severely.

"You've been letting Amrys teach you long and unapprentice-like words again, scrub," she said.

Janika giggled.

"I like Amrys' long words," she said. "So does Uncle Otelek. He sits there killing himself laughing when she's on one of her holdings- forths."

"Journeyman Otelek's a real sport," said Bretine. "And you know you're not supposed to call him 'uncle' during work time."

"Well, 'tisn't work time either, so stick your head in a wether!" said Janika, cheekily.

"It is, too, it's not a holiday," said Bretine, poking the little girl in the ribs and making her giggle still more. "You're a cheeky scrub when you're healthy!"

Janika beamed sunnily at her, and Bretine hugged her. It was impossible to be cross for long with Janika, who was turning into a sunny and loving child after her life's terrible tragedies.

Molly watched, covertly.

Her experiences of girls together were of the spites and one-upmanship of the drudges, the lowest of the low, and so grabbing what status they might vicariously accrue from their mistresses; or the equally spiteful vying for status amongst the visiting Ranking girls or fosterlings, who sucked up to Fenoria to her face and made unkind comments behind her back. It could have been such a comment about Amrys that she was, what was it, a 'champion interferencer and organiser' had it not been modified with the comment that people went to Amrys with their troubles; and the description of Amrys persuading the Master was tolerantly amused, and accepting, not couched in bitchy terms.

And the biggest girl here did not bully the littlest, they bickered in what seemed to be an amicable way and made up with hugs!

Molly resolved to keep very quiet until she had worked out the unwritten rules here!

oOo

As surmised by the others, Amrys had gone straight to Master Lynger.

"Master, we have a problem," she said, with her usual lack of preamble.

"Oh?" Master Lynger had not yet had a report from Otaysa, but had heard that the new girl had arrived, and promptly feared the worst.

"The new _thing_ from Telgar brought a drudge with it," said Amrys, who was in agreement with dragons over not naming any person they disliked. "And brought her _between_ in a summer frock and sandals; and the drudge is never allowed time or facilities to bathe properly, and has been beaten with more vicious intent than harmful efficiency, but still badly enough that coming _between_ was not appropriate."

Master Lynger swallowed a chuckle at Amrys' powers of description, though it was no laughing matter.

"We can't keep a drudge," he said. "It's not something we've made provision for."

"I know that, but the girl Molly begged me not to send her back," said Amrys, "and with her back in the state it is, we'd be Charterbreakers to send her _between_ in any case. She'd be punished for not insisting on staying to wait hand and foot on the sugar distaff, and probably she'd be punished for daring to be clean as well. I said she'd not have to go," Amrys looked straight at him, "and I can send her to mother if you won't make her an apprentice. _It_ won't recognise her with clean hair and decent clothes; and at least she mends and sews well. I've seen her work on her own clothes, and she won't have had as much time to work on them."

"Fenoria does have a name," said the Master, mildly reproving.

"Dragons won't name people they don't like," said Amrys.

"You, however, are not a dragon. A thirtysecond for cheek to me," said Lynger.

Amrys bowed her head.

"My apologies, Master; I would never intentionally be cheeky to _you._ If it is your will, I will name this … Fenoria."

"It is," said Master Lynger. "I rather think that Lord Larad hopes that there may be some cure for her."

Amrys started to sniff in disbelief but stopped in time.

That would be disrespectful.

"Anyway, sir, how about apprenticing Molly and seeing if she can pick up other skills?" she asked. "It's not like Marra, who was at least appointed by Lady Varilka. And if she can't catch up, then she can go to Rillys."

"Amrys, I have no intention of apprenticing anyone who isn't suitable," said Lynger, "but," he added, as her eager face fell, "If the other girls are happy to keep her in the dormitory for now, and she goes to classes with the newer ones, we shall see." He smiled kindly. "I shan't see a child sent back somewhere to be ill-used, Amrys; you know I shan't! We shall see how she goes, and if she cannot make a minimum grade, I shall, as you suggest, send her to your mother to find work for. I'm sure she needs plenty of sewing done. But I will not promise more! Are you sure Fenoria will not recognise her?" he asked, doubtfully.

Amrys laughed.

"From a dirty creature with lank brownish hair in a tangle to a 'prentice brat in trews and vibrant auburn locks? I don't somehow think so!"

Master Lynger nodded. That was a relief! Though technically the girl Molly had every right to leave Hold for Hall, some nasty accusations might be made.

oOo

Amrys burst back into the dormitory; Molly noticed she was the only person to jump. Amrys addressed her.

"Molly! The Master says you have to work like stink to prove we can keep you as an apprentice. Well, he didn't put it like that, but it's what he meant," she amended. "You're to go to classes with Clareena, Janikka and Marra, and learn as much as you can by Turnover to prove you can stay!"

Molly's eyes flared with hope.

"Oh, My Lady! Really?"

"Here! None of that 'my lady' crackdust between apprentices!" said Amrys. "I'm Amrys, and we don't Rank in here. And yes, really, and if you can't make the grade, there's always my mother. But you will. And I bet," she added, "talking of Rank, that Kelia is sitting on any pretensions of Rank Fenoria the Flabby-minded is trying to pull."

"Flabby arse too, from what I saw out of the window," said Bretine. "Why are we still here? We've got time for a game of kabaddi outside before we're called in for supper."

"Excellent idea!" grinned Amrys. "And even numbers now, to play!"

oOo

Molly had never played Kabaddi, but she had seen it played by big Hold league teams, and she soon got the idea.

It seemed, too, as an apprentice she might have a chance to capture some of the childhood lost in drudging for her spoilt mistress!


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

Kelia slid into the apprentices' common room after supper.

"Oy, paying type, who invited you?" demanded Amrys.

Kelia giggled.

"I invited myself! I know it's against the rules, but please don't throw me out, Amrys, I have to sound off about that … that …!"

"Fork-faced whackbonk?" suggested Amrys.

"Amrys your _language_! You've been associating far too much with weyrbrats!" said Kelia, primly. "What on Pern is a whackbonk?"

"Someone you want to sneak up on at the table to go _whack_ to the back of the head so the front goes _bonk_ on the table," said Amrys.

"Oh. Yes, I see what you mean," said Kelia. "And you don't even have to live with her! She objected, my dear, to sharing a dorm with us lowborns! Well, I disabused her of that misconception, I can tell you, because I reckoned we all outranked her, even if only in the brains department!" quickly she passed on the conversation.

"Glad you stood up for Breda," said Amrys. "That'll give her the boost she needs to keep on improving. But I say, Kelia, is it right for you to spread all that to apprentices? It's kind of bitchy gossip and … well, I appreciate you wanting to sound off, but is it worth trying to make her a laughing stock before she's had a chance to shape up? I know I interfered over Marra, but that was because she belongs with us…."

Kelia pulled a face.

"No, scrub, it isn't fair; but she's so feeble and useless and she was quite horribly rude to Breda when she offered to help, and Breda was magnificently dignified over it. We were proud of her."

"If Breda offered to help, she's learning, weyrwoman," said Marra, timidly. "Doesn't that mean that this Fenoria might do so too?"

"Breda had sudden wealth go to her head, which made her worse," said Kelia. "This one has been a pain all her life, and well spoilt. What's happening about that poor kid she half-froze?"

"Keep a secret by the shards of K'len's Sharath's egg?" demanded Amrys.

"Cross my heart and hope for Threadscore if I lie," said Kelia, drawing a cross on her chest in time honoured manner.

Amrys pointed at Molly.

Kelia laughed.

"As nice a little boy-girl as the rest of you. But, child, your _hair_! Did Amrys hack it off?"

"No, weyrwoman, I've cut off odd lengths when it tickled, as long as I can remember," Molly said.

"I thought it was a little uneven," said Amrys.

Kelia rolled her eyes.

"Sewing scissors," she demanded. "Sit still, kid; I'll take it nice and short and make you even more sexually ambiguous with a weyr-cut like Amrys wears."

Amrys winced over the use of sewing scissors on hair; but they were Kelia's scissors so if she blunted them, it was her problem.

The scissors snipped. Kelia was certainly well versed in hair cutting and style; it had been a hobby of hers to do trims for her cronies in the weyr, and it was a skill that was sought after. Molly had a well-shaped head, and soon her close-fitting cap of gleaming auburn had the opposite effect to what Kelia intended.

Amrys giggled.

"It makes her lots more feminine, not less!" she said. "Brings out the fine bones!"

"Oh well," said Kelia, shrugging, "Chances are _she'll_ see apprentice knots and short hair and assume you're a boy anyway. Doesn't matter; you don't look much like the sort of drudge people like her have which is downtrodden and scraggy. Walk tall, kid; look proud of who you are. That's as much a disguise as anything else, not cringing and scuttling out of the way. You'll be fine. Stick to Amrys. She's an all-right kiddy for a scrubby brat. You keep _that_ in your mouth?" as Amrys stuck her tongue out.

"Oh yes; I'm not old enough to stick it in a wether's mouth," said Amrys, sweetly.

Kelia coloured and smacked the little girl lightly on the back of the head.

"Oy!" she said.

"You got patronising. Got to take you poor paying types down a peg or two," grinned Amrys. "Nice haircut, and appreciated, but put the weyrwoman away do, Kelia."

"Horrid brat," chuckled Kelia, wryly, quickly regaining her composure. "Well, new apprentice kid, whatever your name is, best of luck! We'll try and teach Fenoria manners but I think we're fighting a losing battle, as the proddy Blue said to Ramoth."

She ruffled Amrys' short locks and left.

oOo

Molly was introduced to the other apprentices; to most, just as a new girl who was prevented by circumstances from coming sooner, but more fully to Amrys' own coterie of Brown dormitory boys, and those of upper and lower Bronze.

"The Master will talk to the Masters and Journeymen?" asked Hetel.

"I should think so," said Amrys. "Master Lynger is nothing if not efficient. I'd imagine he'll just tell them she's an older one held back by circumstances, and ask them to bring her on; and they'll think she's been ill like Jerellan was. Faranth knows, she looks skinny enough to have been ill."

Jerellan nodded.

"She's only a little older than I was when I started," he said.

"'Course, you had done a lot at home," said Amrys, cautiously, "But I should think with all of us helping out, Molly, we'd bring you on in the things you haven't done, and you sew most beautifully. And as you're nice to Janika, sitting there helping her with her dolly's clothes, it makes us even more inclined to help you." Molly was dressing one of Janika's wooden dolls as a grandee of Telgar Hold.

Molly flushed.

"I never had a doll," she said, yearningly, "and Lady Fenoria didn't care for any of her toys well. I took a broken doll out of the midden, one that she'd thrown out, and she called it stealing and had me thrashed, even though its leg was broken and she didn't want it."

"Oh Molly! You must share my dolls!" cried Janika. "Oh! Why are you crying?"

Molly had dissolved into tears.

Hard, shrewd and cynical her outer rearing might be, but so spontaneous a gesture had just broken through her guard.

"I … I guess no-one's ever been so kind to me before!" she sniffed.

The girls all hugged her; the boys patted her arm with faintly embarrassed expressions. Girlish emotions were not something they knew how to cope with!

Janika tucked her hand into Molly's.

"I'll ask my grandmother if she'll foster you too," she said. "She fosters me, 'cos I'm an orphan," her own eyes filled with tears, "and I'm the daughter of her own little girl, but she's awf'ly good at cuddles."

Molly sniffed hard.

A lifetime starved of affection, and now gentleness all round! It was hard to cope with, without breaking down completely!

She did break down later, in Otaysa's room, where, at the promptings of Janika, that worthy took her to discuss her fostering.

Otaysa rocked and cuddled her as if she was a child no older than she had been when wrested from her mother; for somewhere inside, that eight-turn-old child had never been permitted her full development. The other girls were in bed already when Otaysa brought Molly back, and tucked her in with a kiss; something Molly could only barely remember her own mother doing!

"And now," said Janika, drowsily, "I have _two_ sisters, 'cos Amrys is my honororrory sister too."

"And your honorary sister says, go to sleep, scrub," said Amrys, amicably.

oOo

In Gold dormitory there was less harmony. Fenoria was in trouble for using more than her allotted share of hot water. The apprentices had washed first, as was their right, and were well trained in how much they were permitted.

"It takes time to heat, you know; and in summer, there's a limited amount!" said Kelia, crossly. "Not that it does any of us any harm to wash in cold, but we're allowed lukewarm at night. And, my girl, if you're in the habit of stealing more then your fair share, you won't half cop it if you use water designated for girls coming back stinking from the dyehouse or paint-stained from the printcraft room! They need hot water for those crafts, I assure you!"

"Well, it's a pretty poor concern that can't provide enough!" sulked Fenoria.

"It is enough, for reasonable folk," said Barla. "We don't need hot baths in summer; two buckets each is sufficient to take the chill off. It'd be a profligate waste of fuel otherwise, and believe me, we need all the fuel we can get in a High Reaches winter. You low-landers are so soft!"

Telgar Hold was well to the north; and its winters were often as sharp as any to be found in the High Reaches, but they were not, generally, so long.

"We have cold winters too!" snapped Fenoria.

"Yes, but only really cold from the eleventh month to the third," said Barla. "We can be under snow from just into the ninth month right through to the fifth in a long winter; and from tenth to fourth is quite normal."

"I don't believe it!" gasped Fenoria.

"You call lie on me?" Barla's light blue eyes flashed icy fire. "How _dare_ you!"

"Fenoria, I suggest you apologise," said Kelia. "Words spoken in haste without meaning them are understood. Barla speaks no more than the truth, as I can testify."

"And I," said Rulene, "Though my own Hold is on the more temperate plain of Nabol; but we know something of how the rest of the High Reaches fares."

"And I guess I've heard enough stories of how H'llon wrote to his mother for more winter woollies," said Indeela, with a giggle. "It's going to be a shock for a soft Lemosian like me, I guess! And you, too, Breda; you hail from temperate zones, don't you?"

"I'm knitting long underwear, I can tell you!" said Breda. "And I'll be in it the minute summer passes!"

Breda's knitting was indifferent, and she actually intended to buy long underwear, but she was shrewd enough to have a sense of the dramatic.

"Well, if it is true, I apologise," said Fenoria, huffily.

"Not acceptable," said Kelia.

"What?"

"The apology is for calling Barla's honesty into account; a conditional apology implying that you still disbelieve her is insufficient," said Kelia.

"Why should I?" said Fenoria.

"Am I, or am I not, the head of this dormitory?" demanded Kelia. "For as I patently am, you do it because I expect you to maintain harmony by showing some decency. Great Eggs, girl, you haven't the manners of a Keroonian porcine herder!"

Fenoria flushed angrily.

"Well, I apologise for calling your honesty to account, Barla," she said, "But I can't see any manners from you, Kelia! You've done nothing but insult me!"

"Oh, childish tit for tat!" said Kelia, cheerfully. "You insult me, my friends, this rather excellent Hall, and you expect to get off without being taken to task for it?"

Actually, that was what Fenoria expected!

She was used to giving her tongue unbridled rein, saying what she liked about whomever she liked. Except, of course, her Uncle Larad and her cousins; the three male cousins were quite grown up and one of them a dragonrider! Bonna was younger, closer to Fenoria in age; but she was an artist and lived in her own world, and she and Fenoria despised each other cordially and avoided each other. Almost everyone else Fenoria considered beneath her, save her other close relations, and so passed comment accordingly, unchecked and with impunity.

Kelia watched the play of thwarted anger across the younger girl's features.

"I remember Kylara – just," she said, quietly. "She must have been beautiful, once, but she was always so irritable it robbed her of her looks. And she was getting lines where she frowned a lot. You look a whole lot like her; except she'd have scorned to let herself go and put on excess weight."

"Are you implying that I'm fat?" demanded Fenoria, missing the point of the rest of Kelia's speech.

"No, not yet; just a trifle porky," said Kelia.

" _Porky?!"_ screeched Fenoria.

"Only a little," said Kelia, "and you've no muscle to speak of; it makes you look flabby."

" _Flabby?!"_ the screech was higher.

"Here, steady on," said Kelia, "you go any higher and you'll shatter the windows! You've let yourself go, my good kid, and it's time you got into shape or you'll end up a poor creature like Jora, wallowing like the bloated carcass of a month-dead wherry in a river."

"Who wants to be muscle-bound and skinny, like some drudge!" snarled Fenoria.

"Muscle bound? No, I've no desire to stand for a dragon and end up becoming brawny like the likes of Lessa of Benden," said Kelia, with heavy irony, since Lessa was accounted one of Pern's beauties, "but no muscle at all is uglier than too much; and you so have made me realise that enough exercise is necessary to remain pretty! I'd hate to end up looking like a fat white grub."

This time Fenoria's shriek was undecipherable and loud enough to bring Otaysa to the door.

"Girls!" she said. "Really! There are little girls trying to sleep next door – who is responsible for that ill-bred noise?"

"They're _unfair_ to me!" wailed Fenoria.

"Oh?" asked Otaysa.

"Kelia said I'm porky and flabby and looked like a fat white grub!" she said.

There was shocked silence; telling tales was as taboo for the big girls as for apprentices.

"Actually, I said I didn't want to look like a fat white grub," drawled Kelia, "fearing that happening without reasonable exercise. But if Fenoria saw a resemblance in herself already …"

"That will do, Kelia," said Otaysa. "Well, Fenoria, I did warn you that people might express blunt opinions. Kelia, instead of pointing out the child's unfortunate physical shortcomings so unkindly and bluntly, you should help her overcome them. After you have risen tomorrow, you can take her for a brisk walk to see the scenery."

"I'm usually on sweep, Otaysa; doesn't that supersede?" asked Kelia.

Otaysa nodded.

"Of course; but when you've washed up, you can take her out, there'll be time for a nice half hour walk up to the hold and back, it's less than a mile, just a gentle stroll to get her started."

Fenoria stared in horror.

"You can't make me! I've never walked so far in my life!"

"Then it's about time to start, dear, for the good of your health," said Otaysa. "After all, we don't want Lord Larad thinking we neglect you! Oh, and girls, remember tomorrow that the hot water is reserved for those who walk sweep to wash off the stink of agenothree; the rest of you will wash in cold and no hot to make it lukewarm."

"Yes, Otaysa," other voices chorused.

"Wash in _cold_ water?" Fenoria was horrified.

"Yes, why not? It's lovely weather, and you don't need hot unless there's extra to wash off," said Otaysa.

"But why can't the drudges heat some more for me – us?" demanded Fenoria.

"Because they have better things to do than wait on silly little girls who are not invalids and do not need mollycoddling," said Otaysa. "Now get into bed do, and stop bellyaching!"


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

When Kelia, Bretine and Amrys returned from walking sweep, a prophylactic action some hours after the end of Fall since no-one expected apprentices to turn out hours before their normal rising time , it was to find Fenoria wallowing in the hot bath drawn by Otaysa for their shared use.

Even without finding tunnels, the agenothree smell was pungent; and the girls had squirted a suspect hole that turned out to be no more than weather cut.

"Kelia, feet," snapped Amrys, "Bretine, left arm."

The girls bodily lifted the startled Fenoria and dropped her – none too gently – on the floor. Kelia had already started stripping and completed her task in a hurry to leap in, so the water was occupied; the younger girls peeled quickly, Amrys putting all the soiled clothes in the laundry basket as Bretine scrambled in the other end.

"And plenty of room for two side by side," she said gaily, and Amrys joined her.

"This is more jolly than taking turns as we usually do," said Amrys, soaping herself happily; Sadvia provided scented bar soap from the Woodcrafter Hall courtesy of the newly appointed Journeyman Soapcrafter, Saskia.

"You rotten brats! How dare you!" Fenoria knelt up, running water.

"Didn't you _know_ the hot is for those walking sweep?" demanded Amrys.

"She did; Otaysa warned us last night," said Kelia. "She's a thief and a sneak, too, and Fenoria, you so had better mop that puddle up, that you're making, because we're all responsible for our own mess."

"I shan't! And how dare you lie and call me a thief!"

"But you are a thief," said Amrys. "You stole the use of the hot water that wasn't for you,"

"And she stole all the hot last night," said Kelia. "And she sneaks like mad … we shan't sneak about it being your mess, but Otaysa will find out, you know."

"No! You made the mess, dragging me out!"

"Uh-uh," said Kelia. "Doesn't work like that. You shouldn't have been there to need dragging out. You clear it up and be thankful it's still hot enough in the bath that we don't take your water thieving further."

Fenoria sullenly dried herself, wriggling prudishly in her drying cloth, and dressed with her back to them, with the towel wrapped around her as she donned her clothes.

The puddle remained, and the discarded drying cloth in it.

oOo

The two female dormitories were stopped on their way to breakfast by an annoyed Otaysa.

"Who left the big puddle in the bathing room?" she demanded.

"It was that precious weyrbrat and the two apprentices who walk sweep," said Fenoria, spitefully.

Otaysa raised an eyebrow. The three girls were looking outraged.

"Oh?" Otaysa sounded disbelieving. "I've never found any of them unwilling to confirm any wrongs they commit before, nor have I found them untidy."

"We _left_ the mess, Otaysa, but another girl's body _made_ it," said Amrys, "and we felt it was her responsibility to clear up."

"Another girl was washing at the same time as you early ones?" Otaysa was surprised.

"We're not about to sneak, Otaysa, about who snuck out early," said Bretine.

"No reason anyone should not get up and wash early, if they had some work to get on with," said Otaysa. "Ah. Someone else was using the hot water?"

"We removed an obstruction to our washing," said Kelia.

"It dripped a bit," said Bretine.

"It dripped a lot," said Amrys.

Otaysa nodded.

"Well it seems clear to me that the person who accuses you of leaving a mess must have been there to see it. Fenoria, you were expressly forbidden to use the hot water; and in addition, you leave a mess on the floor, and I wager the crumpled drying cloth thrown down in the puddle rather than being folded into the dirty linen bin was yours too. And worst of all, you try to get three girls into trouble to shift blame from your own well-padded shoulders by lying. You can come right up now my girl and clear it up!"

"But … breakfast!" whined Fenoria.

"Won't do you any harm to miss it for once! Did you get your walk?" she asked sharply. "If so, I'll see you have something to eat."

"She wouldn't come, Otaysa," said Kelia. "And short of dragging her bodily I couldn't really take her."

"Well, I can see I shall have to supervise her walks myself, like a small child, if she can't act older than a preharper moppet of four turns or so," said Otaysa, grimly. "And if there's any more nonsense about hot water, I will take steps. I heard the whole as Kelia has a carrying voice and yours is shrill, but I had been going to leave it to dormitory discipline. With this piece of dishonesty, I shall be watching you, and any further dishonesty and I shall be bathing you night and morning myself."

Fenoria gasped. This was so humiliating!

oOo

It was also humiliating getting on her knees at Otaysa's direction to mop up the puddle of water.

"This is drudge work!" she wailed. "I've never been treated so!"

"My dear child, if you marry and run a Hold, you'll need to know every chore to know how to direct and correct the drudges!" said Otaysa.

"And what do _you_ know about running a Hold?" sneered Fenoria. Then she gasped. Otaysa grabbed her by the scruff and proceeded to administer half a dozen hard rebukes to the girl's backside.

"I've warned you about your insolence and disrespect, my girl!" said Otaysa. "As it happens, I know a great deal about running a Hold; I learned at the knees of my grandfather, Lord Sangel of Boll. But as a Master's wife helping with the running of the Hall, it comes to the same thing."

"But … you never said you were Ranking!" Fenoria whined.

"You _knew_ that I am Ranking; I am a Master's wife!" said Otaysa, sternly. "And that counts a good deal more to most people than being the extra offspring of the august testicles of one of the proddier members of the Blood!"

Fenoria was glad to escape in time to down a mug of klah and choke down a jam roll before being dismissed to class!

oOo

Fenoria also came in for censure in class.

"Great Shells, girl," exclaimed Master Braelek, "anyone would think you've never touched a needle in your life! I never saw such clumsy stitching!"

Fenoria was easily bored; and her stitches quickly degenerated into 'homeward bounders' that no sewing teacher at the Hold had dared criticise, for fear of dismissal or even being made Holdless!

"I'm upset!" whined Fenoria. "I've been being _bullied_ by that rotten tunnel-snake Otaysa!"

Braelek stiffened and the other girls gasped in horror. The Master asked, softly,

"Do any of you other girls feel you have any complaint to make about my wife?!

"Oh, Fenoria's a spoilt brat who's never been taught to live amongst civilised folk, master," said Barla. "She's got rotten manners, she steals and lies and sneaks, and screeches like a wherry-kite or a Tillek fish-wife, and she don't like being told off for not acting better than the caprine of an oaf of a cotholder."

"Barla, can you even spell the word 'tact'?" asked Braelek, anger and shock readily melting before amusement. This was one girl's spite, and though it was a problem, a Lord Holder's daughter's opinion trumped that of a brat of uncertain antecedants.

"No, sir," said Barla, "but you should know it's all Fenoria; and Otaysa has been trying her best to teach her decent ways to live."

Fenoria was horrified.

She knew Otaysa was a Master's wife, and she had assumed it was Master Lynger that she was married to! She would not have dared to complain to the woman's husband, had she known! She was pale.

Braelek looked around.

"Girls, this is a serious allegation; Barla assured me that my wife has not bullied this girl, but before the allegations go to the Master, as any complaint against one of the faculty must do, have any of you anything more to say?"

"Master, it's so much tripe," said Kelia. "Otaysa is a brilliant house mother, and I've been in more hot water with her than anyone else, you know! Fenoria, I suggest you apologise right now for lying about Otaysa. We can all testify that you tell lies, you know, after you lied to get the two weyrbred and Amrys into trouble this morning. If this goes before The Master as a complaint, you so are going to come out of it looking silly. Sillier, I should say."

"The rider was unnecessary, Kelia," said Braelek.

"Sorry, Master," said Kelia, not sounding sorry.

Fenoria was not clever; but nor was she stupid. She had gone too far and knew it. However, she had no idea how to apologise properly, nor even really what it was that had caused the need, other than irritating Otaysa's husband.

"I apologise for calling Otaysa a tunnel-snake," she said, stiffly, "but I feel she has acted rather harshly. She even struck me!"

"Why?" demanded Kelia.

"That is not for you to ask, Kelia," said Braelek, keeping his voice even with an effort. "The Master needs to determine it. Kelia, as representative of the others, and head of Gold dormitory, please take Fenoria to The Master to make a formal deposition of her complaint against Otaysa; he may ask you to add your own testimony."

The girls were shocked and quiet; and Braelek looked quite grey.

A formal complaint was serious!

Kelia got up and hoisted Fenoria to her feet, none too gently.

"But I don't want to go to The Master!" whined the girl.

"Shouldn't have made an allegation against Otaysa, then," said Kelia. "Decent folk can't be slandered by the likes of you without having a right to reply! Too harsh? If I'd been Otaysa's shoes, I'd have leathered you more than once, I can tell you, and so would my weyrlingmistress if you were a candidate! And you'd have been running up and down to the fireheights carrying firestone! You say Otaysa is too harsh, and you'll fardling well say so to the Master and give her official right of reply, not spread lying rumour!" She shook the other girl and waited until she had manhandled her out of earshot of Master Braelek to add, "You little ninny! As soon as I get the chance I'm going to slap your silly face pink!"

"You're a bully!"

"And what do you think you are, laying complaint on a decent woman doing her best to give you reasonable standards to live up to, in order to help you not be given rough justice by the rest of us? Little fool!" she added scornfully.

oOo

Kelia delivered Fenoria to Master Lynger with the comment,

"Little idiot thinks Otaysa is too harsh! And when she's finished whining to you that Otaysa won't let her throw her rather too padded weight around and steal what belongs to others, nor insult other people willy-nilly, I can tell you a few things about how restrained Otaysa is before you see her. Because when this little wretch is doing something this rotten, it's not sneaking to tell it like it is."

"Thank you, Kelia; you may wait outside," said Master Lynger.

Acquaintance with paying students and with weyrfolk and with Amrys' family had largely cured Lynger of his awe of those socially elevated. And his austere dignity actually impressed Fenoria, especially as Kelia obediently curtseyed and went out.

The Master sat, waiting for the girl to speak, and even Fenoria cringed slightly as her diatribe tumbled out, her subconscious at least recognising how childish it sounded.

"So, you were given six slaps for your tone of voice," The Master said, as she wound down. "But my dear child, you approve of corporal punishment! Amrys reported to me that your drudge was marked with welts and bruises!"

"That's different! Menials need punishment!"

"Oh? Are they a different species? Not human?" he explained seeing her look confused.

"Hardly! They smell, too!"

"How surprising! Anyone not permitted proper washing facilities or time to use them are likely to smell," said Lynger. "Given a bucket of cold water and no soap, for your ablutionary needs and I doubt you would manage any better than your erstwhile drudge, my girl! So, back to your spanking. And a spanking, not a whipping. Do you feel Otaysa mistook the intent of your tone of voice?"

Fenoria flushed.

"How was I to know I shouldn't address her as a menial? She never said she was Ranking," she said resentfully.

"You were surely aware that she is a Master's wife?" he asked, incredulous.

"But that doesn't count! I mean Blood, not just being able to do a few stupid crafts …" she broke off.

Lynger got abruptly to his feet.

"That is your opinion of those of us who have laboured for Turns to achieve Mastery, is it? You who I doubt can even ply a needle with much skill or weave more than the simplest tabby-pattern? YOU IGNORANT LITTLE MUCK-WORM! YOU INSOLENT PEST! I CAN SEE WHY OTAYSA SPANKED YOU AND BELIEVE ME, SHE WAS LENIENT! GET OUT OF MY SIGHT! I WILL SPEAK TO YOUR UNCLE ABOUT YOU!"

Fenoria fled.

"Shells!" said Kelia. "I never even knew he could shout!"

Fenoria didn't care; she ran for her bed to sob.

oOo

Lord Larad came in person; though recently happily remarried he was grim of face over his young relative's faults as Lynger explained them to him. The Lord Holder also heard Otaysa's dispassionate commentary, and Kelia's snide one.

"Do you want me to remove her?" he sighed. "I don't want another Thella!"

"I'd like you to point out to the little wretch firstly that Blood obligates, and secondly that there are more people who Rank than those whose accidental birth places them in certain families, My Lord, and to inform her that she is under Hall discipline and must accept that," said Otaysa. "She has no idea of how to live with people other than trying to push them around, and has yet to learn that Pern does not revolve for her convenience, and that other people have as many rights as she does. I hope I can change her attitude, but I can't do a thing unless someone she recognises as the Blood, and able to give her orders, tells her how wrong and stupid are her ideas that Masters are beneath her, and that her house mother is a menial. She needs to know that her own selfish desires cannot be put above the needs of others, and that I, and the Journeymen and Masters who teach her, have the right to tell her so."

Larad nodded grimly.

"I'll talk to her," he said.

oOo

The talk also involved the loss of temper on the part of Lord Larad and the energetic plying of his belt end across Fenoria's chubby rump for causing him so much embarrassment and trouble. He gave her to understand what he thought of a girl who behaved so childishly and in so ill-bred a fashion in front of the daughter of another Lord Holder, and weyrfolk, and of even stealing from weyrfolk. Fenoria had not known that Bretine was also weyrbred and that High Reaches Weyr counted Amrys as such, and contemplated in horror the thought of being exiled to the Eastern Isles as Lord Larad suggested she might be if she continued such disrespect.

"You don't know who any apprentice might be, and anyone with an ounce of sense and a thumblength of decorum would treat them all with equal courtesy!" said Larad. "As for disrespecting the weavers, you leave me speechless! A Master Ranks with a Bronze Rider or a Holder, and don't you forget it, my girl! Do you want the weavers to withdraw goodwill from Telgar because they think us uncouth?" he demanded. "All weavers recalled – a refusal to sell us fabric. That means, to your spoilt little world, no more velvets or brocades, if you've not worked it out! And it also means you'd be weaving from dawn til dusk to make sure we were at least clad, as you've received some training in it! And my Hold a laughing stock because of you! That girl Kelia asked if we couldn't breed women more like Famira or Bonna, rather than those like Thella or Kylara, and there wasn't a fardling thing I could say to her, cheek as it was, because she was correct! And I certainly don't plan to irritate weyrfolk more by being rude to her to choke off such embarrassing questions! Now behave yourself, my girl, or I'll shift your craft training to Minercraft, and I'll ask that they teach you at the seam face, not cutting pretty jewels!"

Fenoria was horrified.

She also believed him.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

Molly, meanwhile, was experiencing her first day with the weavercraft.

Explained as a new girl, as Amrys had thought, with the implied reason of delay through illness, the Masters and Journeymen were relatively gentle with her. Journeyman Kevas set a project of plaid weaving for the others and went through the basics with the girl. Kevas was not the most patient man on Pern, but he had enough imagination to think of his own daughter held back by disease or disability, and made pains to start Molly on the road to catching up.

Molly was a quick learner; and was soon asking sensible questions that had Kevas nodding approval! Kevas reflected that of the two new ones, Marra had the most raw talent, but Molly was probably the more intelligent, and, like Amrys, would succeed using her quick brain and sheer hard work. Talented himself, Kevas had needed to learn that not all were so talented as himself, and that often better results were obtained by plodding hard work than by the more talented youths, like Laterel, who found things so easy they were inclined to scamp work! Kevas himself had got into a habit of hard work before he realised how far ahead he was, when he was an apprentice, and was glad of it. Since Marra was also a hard worker, Kevas saw no reason why the two should not easily catch up to the others.

The Master's voice interrupted all classes, however: it was audible throughout the Hall, only the Mill and the Dyehouse being out of earshot.

Molly winced and almost cowered.

"What's wrong, child?" Kevas asked with brusque kindness.

"Loud, angry voices mean trouble," whispered Molly.

"Shells, you have been somewhere rum," said Kevas. "Don't worry, lass, whoever it means trouble for isn't you. Never heard the Master shout before, mind you; mild mannered man as a rule."

"It'll be that new Ranking piece, father, er, Journeyman," said Ankevor, taking advantage of his relationship with Kevas to talk out of turn. "She took the hot water of the girls who walked sweep."

Amrys was perfectly amenable to discipline but Kevas did not fancy the idea of being a mere paying student on the receiving end of the rough edge of her tongue.

"Cuh!" said Brafor. "You don't think the Master is chewing out Amrys for language, do you?"

"Not with such phrases as I managed to hear whole," said Kevas. "I'd have said it was more likely the paying student is getting a chewing out … Get on with your work, you cheeky brats, do you think I have time to waste speculating on the Bloodbrat?"

Ten heads bent obediently to looms.

Molly's heart sang.

The sympathy was not with Fenoria, certainly not if Journeyman Kevas casually referred to her as a 'Bloodbrat!' Fenoria would not force her back, even if the Ranking girl got sent home!

Kevas may have felt faintly guilty afterwards at his choice of words, but none of his class had anything but sympathy for him, having to teach her!

oOo

Various apprentices saw a dragon arrive from Lemos; and Amrys, Sadvia and Sajed recognised Lord Larad: Sadvia and Sajed from having met him, Amrys from description.

Sadvia made sure to accost the Lord Holder on his way out; he did not look pleased at being stopped.

"Lord Larad … My cousin, Asgenar, introduced us once, but you'll have forgotten me, I'm sure," said Sadvia. "I was only ten, after all,"

Larad managed a grin.

"And not likely that I'd realise you'd grow into a beauty," he said, politely. "What can I do for you?"

"I'm attached to the hall as the woodcrafter; my sister is in with the paying students," said Sadvia. "And so I've heard about Fenoria."

Larad's face clouded.

"Oh." He said ominously.

"Indeela got in with a bad crowd, and needed curing of it," said Sadvia, bluntly. "If we can help Fenoria, we will; if you'll only be blunt about what's wrong with her and why."

Larad stared. He had expected complaints.

"Well, if you can help her to become more human … All right. She's lazy and selfish, and has been brought up with the idea that her grandfather's Blood makes her something special. Her mother was a child of his later years and was spoilt; until he died. She's passed on her own featherheaded notions to Fenoria. And I don't really believe Fenoria could be another Thella; she's too fardling lazy to try!"

"Well, that's perhaps a good thing in a way," said Sadvia, privately thinking that Thella had needed a good push in a constructive direction instead of being threatened with being married off. But Larad had only been fifteen when he became Lord Holder, too young to always make wise decisions. "Are you sure that Weavercraft was the right choice for her?"

"Sewing a little is all she does," said Larad. "She's not musical, and I doubt she could manage woodcrafting without shrieking at sharp tools. I don't want her to poison anyone learning bakercraft and she's too unfit for anyone else to have her. And Otaysa seems a good, down to earth sort of woman, ready to give her the discipline she needs."

Sadvia nodded.

"A child deprived of discipline has no self discipline," she said. "They grow up to be criminal because they cannot curb their desires."

"Where did you learn that?" asked Larad, surprised.

"Oh, I'm a logicator, My Lord."

"Isn't that a game the children of High Reaches Weyr play?"

Sadvia flushed angrily, and let him see the irritation.

"It's no game, My Lord. Children listen, and put in ideas, yes; but it's brought many murderers to book, rescued children from perverts and other things. The Harpers recognise Logicating, and so do the other crafts; there are knots for it now."

He was surprised.

"Then I stand corrected. I'll see if I can find out more. But I have to go; too many things to do."

Sadvia nodded. He had been distracted by his wedding and had doubtless missed it at the previous Holder conclave.

"Thank you for your time, and your assessment of Fenoria," she said. "Asgenar will be able to fill you in about logicating."

Obviously it was the child's parents' fault; an idiot could work that out, let alone a logicator. The mother had been spoilt, but the implication was that she had been trammelled when her father had died. Spoiling her own daughter might be a subconscious rebuke and revenge on her half-brother. No mention of the girl's father; presumably he was lower born, or they would not have had quarters in the main Hold, and he was ready to worship, or at least give way to, his wife and daughter. Or maybe there was no father. Larad was too cagey!

Poor kid, in any case, thought Sadvia, with a twinge of sympathy. Turned into a self-willed monster, then thrown into a situation where her selfishness was despised, her tantrums laughed to scorn. The girl Vorinia had been turned around by a short, sharp shock; and frank discussion with the drudge she had ill-used, whose rights had been violated. Sadvia smiled wryly to think of that one-time drudge, Josis, who expected to make Woodcrafter Journeyman as soon as a clutch was laid, as it must be, very soon, at High Reaches. There she would rejoin Vorinia as her dearest friend. Somehow, Sadvia, who could put two and two together, did not think that the girl Molly would be as forgiving.

Sadvia resolved to tell the story at the next logicator meeting; Amrys would drag the girl along. Meantime a friendly hand to Fenoria might help her find a way out.

Sadvia went in search of Fenoria.

oOo

Fenoria was sobbing in her bed. It was in an appalling mess.

"Fenoria, I'm Sadvia. If it counts for you, Asgenar is my cousin," said Sadvia, crisply. "Indeela is my kid sister, though we're not that close. I think it's time you had a chance to talk without prejudice to someone you've not yet had a bad start with."

Fenoria lifted a startled face.

"Poor little brat you are," said Sadvia, "all confused. Come into the bathing room and wash your face; then we'll go to my room and get some klah, and I'll try to answer the questions you must be wanting to ask. And then I'll help you re-make your bed, for it's as ruffled as if you had never made it this morning."

"I didn't. I have to make my own bed?"

"Well unless you want to live in a rumpled mess, my dear kid," Sadvia sounded amused. "I don't suppose any of the boy apprentices would notice. They get stood over and shown how to do it properly! But we girls have nicer ideas about living comfortably, even Amrys, who's half boy and half weyrbred!"

Fenoria let the older girl lead her to the bathing room and bathe her face.

"Have … have you got numbweed?" she asked.

"Sure, why?"

Fenoria blushed.

"Uncle Larad … he used his belt on me … I've never been beaten before!"

"Pity about that," said Sadvia, "a spanking or two at least when you were little – I don't hold with beating anyone – might have saved you all this pain now. Your parents were cruel."

"My parents are kind and would never hurt me! I wish I could go home!" flashed Fenoria.

"Your loyalty is to your credit; but if your parents had been truly kind to you they'd have taught you self control and how to live in the real world. Would you let a runnerbeast run wild in a meadow and then suddenly saddle it and bridle it and ride?"

"I don't know. I guess they have to be broken."

"So do people," said Sadvia. "A tiny baby is selfish because it has to be, to keep the attention of its parents in order to survive. Those of us with siblings learn to share; me from birth, because I'm a twin. Wise, loving parents teach their children that we all fit together and all have our place, as the Duty Song tells us in the broader sense. Foolish parents neglect some of their children's training and leave them ill-equipped and undeveloped, unable to cope with the real world. Which is why you feel so out of your depth, so resentful; because you've lived in a dream world, a fantasy, far removed from reality. You have as much idea of real life as a weyrbred Bronze Rider, if as much; and the sensible ones of them talk to people and find out what other folks' lives are like. And the idiot ones who didn't got sent to Southern," she added.

"But I liked my life! Why did I have to be sent here?"

They had reached Sadvia's room and she reached down the numbweed she kept on the shelf.

"Strip off … why? Because your uncle was scared you would turn into another Thella, I guess,"

"But she was a criminal!"

"She wanted her own way and was prepared to push anyone aside who displeased her," said Sadvia. "From what I've heard of your utterances, my child, you displayed similar characteristics. You can't blame him for being scared! There's also Kylara, you know – selfish to a fault! I should think Lord Larad has nightmares about all his female relatives, and if they throw hissy fits about not getting their own way, he's going to panic, you know, whether it's going to happen or not. And of course it's partly his father's fault, and partly his own, because he was too young – only your age – to know how to handle strong minded sisters. If he'd found something that was challenging for Thella to do, I wager she wouldn't have gone rogue. And your mother was spoilt by your grandfather, I believe, and I have a theory she's made you as spoilt as can be to get back at Larad, for not continuing to pamper her when your grandfather died."

Fenoria looked shocked.

"You mean – to turn me into another Thella because she's not strong enough?"

"Perhaps, or at least to be shrill enough to give him headaches. You show tendencies to want own back, would you have balked at using your own child?"

Fenoria stared, and then she started crying again.

"She doesn't love me, she only hates him!" she said.

"I might be wrong," said Sadvia. "But you have a chance to escape this silliness, and become a person who will one day thank your uncle for this – well, the sending to the weavercraft, anyway, this is a cruel beating, and I cannot approve – when you've learned how to get on with people and make real friends, not bitch-me-better partners."

There was a knock at the door.

"Who is it?" called Sadvia.

"It's me, Otaysa … I've lost that silly child, Fenoria, and by the sound of it, Lord Larad was rather harsh. I'm a bit worried."

"Come in, she's in here," said Sadvia.

Otaysa came in and looked at the rapidly developing bruises and welts.

"Yes, I thought he was a little over zealous in making his point," she said. "A bit more than the spanking I hoped he'd give her."

"I'd never have complained if I thought he was going to come and be so cruel!" cried Fenoria.

"Now stop that!" said Sadvia. "You'll only make your eyes sore too; and no point giving yourself more pain! Maybe you'll appreciate more how much you wield the strap at your drudges," she added dryly. "You should be able to sit up now and drink klah."

"I think she should be in the infirmary to sleep until that's cleared up," said Otaysa, tutting. "The child hasn't the courage to sit to do lessons on that."

Sadvia nodded.

"And, my poor prune – as Amrys would say – it gives you time to reflect, put yourself in order and decide if you're going to meet the other girls half way or if you're going to carry on the same and give yourself heartache as well as arse ache by sulking and refusing to talk to them."

"Your language is as bad as Amrys'," commented Otaysa. Sadvia chuckled.

"Too much Weyr influence, I expect!" she said.

"You can't blame it all on the Weyr; Amrys makes a blooded Rider blench when she fairly gets going."

"Oh yes. Cruel parents," said Sadvia. "Didn't her bloodfather beat her cruelly enough to make Larad's efforts look like love taps?"

"Yes," said Otaysa. "So she knows well enough from personal experience that Blood does not imbue a man or woman with perfection. She's all the more grateful for her stepfather. My dear Fenoria, you have much to learn; but we will try to teach you, if you will only listen!"

"I wish I could go home!" cried Fenoria.

"Well, you can't," said Sadvia. "Janika wishes she could go home too; and she never can because her parents are both dead, and that destroyed her home pretty quick. The sea can be cruel. And she, mite of eleven that she is, handles it."

"Well, commons don't feel things deeply, do they?" said Fenoria.

"That is unmitigated nonsense," said Sadvia, "And please try not to put up Otaysa's back when she's ready to help you by insulting her granddaughter."

Fenoria gaped.

"Shut it up, dear, you could drive a Golden Queen in there to lay eggs," said Otaysa. "Perhaps you might learn not to blurt out the first silly thought that comes to mind one day, but I'm almost despairing at the moment."

"The only difference between Blood and a drudge is who they're born to," said Sadvia. "And as some Bloods have their way with drudges, that gives the children of those drudges as much Blood as you have. Stupid people tend to end up doing menial tasks, unless they're born to the Ranking, when they end up being Lord Raid of Benden. Asgenar says if he were any more stupid, he'd bleat and leave pellets on his chair."

Fenoria actually managed a giggle at that!

"My grandfather, Lord Sangel, isn't the sharpest stick in the bundle either," said Otaysa, "but he is a man of duty; and he believes that Blood obligates. Raid is stupid, stubborn, bloody-minded and cussed as a hobby. Unlike Sifer, who is clever enough, in a shrewd sort of way, but likes to go fork-first."

"And Nessel of Crom is obtuse, obstinate and an obstacle, if you believe H'llon," said Sadvia, "which I do."

"What was H'llon doing trying to work with Nessel?" demanded Otaysa. "Crom's under Telgar Weyr, and deserves it too."

"Let's not denegrate any dragonmen," said Sadvia, mildly. "Anyway, Telgar is under new Weyrleaders. It was over Printcrafting, the getting it going," she added. "H'llon thinks Lords Holder should be chosen from those who have studied an apprenticeship in Holding, which is what the system is supposed to do, with the children raised, and the best one chosen. But it doesn't always work that way."

Fenoria sipped her klah, listening. She had no idea that Sadvia and Otaysa had come to an unspoken agreement to gossip so freely to give her an idea of how many of the Blood were thought of! And as both Sadvia and Otaysa were ranking, this carried more weight for her.

"What makes you respect people then?" she asked.

"One respects those people who do their jobs to the best of their abilities, working hard at it," said Sadvia. "Asgenar goes out to walk sweeps, having pioneered more trees; so does Lord Groghe, and I think all the High Reaches lords too. Masters and Journeymen have had to reach a certain level of competency; I was so _proud_ to get my Journeyman's knots last turn, because I really put an effort into getting there. My twin brother did it the turn before, and I'd slacked a bit. It was a real wake-up call!"

"Braelek always made time for the children, but he was often tired because he was determined to get his Mastery," said Otaysa. "He showed how he could use fabrics in an innovative way in embroidery to get it; being a journeyman you have to reach a particular level of competence, but to be a Master you have to show that you can add to the craft, and be creative too. As well as being one of the best on Pern at what you do. Braelek is one of the five best embroiderers there is at the moment, and he chose to pass the skills on by teaching. I'm so proud of him that he puts forwarding the craft before personal wealth and ambition. I respect that."

"Me too," said Sadvia. "I also respect the dragonmen, who face death every seventy hours or so to fight Thread, regardless of the weather or horrid time of before reasonable-waking-up o'clock as H'llon puts it. HOW that man is grouchy before breakfast!"

"Who is this H'llon?" asked Fenoria.

"Masterprinter Wingleader Bronze Rider H'llon started life as a woodcrafter, who made journeyman, and was sent as weyrwoodcrafter to High Reaches Weyr, where he promptly Impressed one of the biggest Bronzes in the Reaches," said Sadvia. "I know his family well. He's inventive and innovative, and I hear rumours that as well as developing printing, he's also inventing a sewing machine to take all the boredom out of hemming sheets."

"If so, and it's as neat as hand sewing, generations of women will bless him," said Otaysa.

"And of course, he's also invented, with the help of an Impressed weaver Journeyman, a loom that'll make far more complex brocades possible," Sadvia did not intend telling the girl it would make weaving faster too. That would be a craft secret! And it did make weaving more complex brocades possible. "I respect him no end! He's always got time for people, and to do little kindnesses, and he's devoted to his fosterlings and apprentices, you know! As for others I respect, I respect my mother, who always had time to play with us all; and my father, who gave us as much time as he could. Some parents who are Holders only give their children expensive things, not time! And both of them taught us good values. I got spanked once, I think; I was insolent. But we had privileges withdrawn for bad behaviour, and missed out on treats. My patents really are kind; they gave us love in abundance, their time, and a good firm basis in self-discipline. When Kyal and I came to apprentice in the Woodcraft Hall, we went a whole turn before anyone found out we were Ranking, and by then we'd made friends! We were no snots. Though we never were such imps of mischief as my smallest sister is!" she winced. "The apprentice pranks of her and her friends would turn your hair white! Still, Elissa – her house mother – has Ambreen well under her thumb, and Ambreen adores her and hates to let her down," she grinned. "And I have every respect for Elissa, weyrbred, going to the Woodcrafter hall and making Journeyman within the turn, and taking on three … no, four, fosterlings at fifteen turns of age, and is now running the dorm for the smallest female apprentices. She's well on her way to Mastery, but Master Benelek says she must be over twenty before he'll award it."

Fenoria had much on which to ponder.

In the quiet solitude of the infirmary she had time to do her pondering in peace; perhaps more peace than she might have liked as it slipped into boredom.

Nobody wanted to be bothered to visit her, save Sadvia, and Sadvia was busy building the new looms for the expanding Hall.


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

The news of a clutch at High Reaches Weyr with a Golden Queen egg was of more interest to most people than the peccadilloes of a Ranking paying student.

Kelia's main gripe was that she was not able to run a book on who would get the Queen.

"Sagarra," said Amrys, "I bet!"

"You're on, I reckon she's too young. How much?"

"You think I'm an idiot? My bets are in the air, not in marks, it's why I don't get too poor despite all the fines I have to pay," said Amrys. "Rillys reckons betting is a mug's game, and she's right."

"Well, yes, and that's why there's more profit in holding the book and taking marks from mugs," said Kelia.

"Every time," agreed Breda. "My da found that out once he'd won his packet, so he had marks behind him. He loves the gees, so he's a bookie sort of as a hobby, not because he has to."

"You see? He'd be bored being idle," said Amrys.

"Yes, and I suppose I would too, though I'm not much good at sewing and weaving," said Breda.

"Handy skills to have, though," said Kelia. "Which is why I'm here, because if we do have to fettle for ourselves when the Pass ends, at least I won't go in rags. Especially since we sidetracked Journeyman Otelek onto how you can get fibres from stingweed, that make good paper, too."

"Journeyman Otelek is good for an interesting sidetrack," agreed Amrys. "He needs a good wife."

"Marry him yourself, sprout," said Kelia. "He'd make a good Holder's husband too."

"I'm a bit young to think of that," said Amrys. "Mmmm. I take your point, though."

oOo

The paying girls had been told that Fenoria had need to take time alone to understand how bad her upbringing had been; Otaysa told them to give her a chance when she returned.

"I gave her a chance before," said Breda, resentfully, "and she threw it in my face!"

Otaysa smiled at her.

"So you can be the best of real ladies and give her another, can't you?" she said.

"I won't snipe at her, Otaysa, but I'll not put my head back in her mouth, thank you," said Breda.

"Well, dear, if you can be civil to her, that's a very good start," said Otaysa.

"Others have turned themselves around, with support and help," said Kelia, "like B'lova; and G'sina her cousin. And Vorinia who's going to stand this time. I'll give her a go, Otaysa."

"Thank you, dear," said Otaysa.

"If she is making an effort, I'll meet her halfway," said Breda.

Otaysa beamed.

"That's more than I could ask, as she has been so rude to you," she said. Breda needed more encouragement to do what Kelia would think of as her duty as weyrbred.

oOo

Sadvia had told the story of Vorinia and Josis, and Molly came to talk to her.

"Is that all true?" she asked, abruptly.

"Entirely," said Sadvia. "Josis is a close friend of mine, and I'm rooting for her to have the Queen at the Weyr, now she's gone to join Vorinia there."

"I couldn't be that forgiving," said Molly.

"No, my dear; very few can. Josis is exceptional. But you didn't have the advantage of spending thirteen turns with a loving father and having at least that much of your childhood. I reckon you were just a kid when Fenoria made you drudge for her, am I right?"

Molly looked startled.

"Who talked?"

Sadvia laughed.

"Oh, my dear girl, I am a logicator! The coincidence of your arrival, under an air of mystery, that you are wearing apparel I recognise as belonging to one of the lads who grew out of it, Amrys being even busier than usual to get you settled in, a disappearing drudge said to be badly beaten and an appearing apprentice with a stiff back that has eased… I'm very skilled, you know!"

"Reckon you're dead clever, Journeyman," said Molly. "Was that aimed at me to make up with – what is it Amrys said, oh yes – the superfluous excess baggage of the Telgar line?"

"Trust Amrys," grinned Sadvia. "She loves her long words! No, not necessarily, but I wanted you to know that even the worst snots can change. I'll tell Fenoria the story when I think she can digest it. I'm suggesting a wary acceptance that she may be going to try."

"She's too lazy to try hard. At least this Vorinia had some gumption. Can't see Fenoria washing clothes."

"Somehow, nor can I," said Sadvia. "Which is why Vorinia is tipped to Impress, and Fenoria never will. But any improvement has to be good, hmm?"

"I suppose," said Molly, grudgingly. "Did the Lord whop her? There were yells."

"Oh yes, you were in the loom room almost below … yes he did, as cruelly or more than she ever beat you," said Sadvia. "And it's given her something to think about. It'll take her a while; poor girl hasn't got a lot to think with. You're better endowed in the brain department, which means you got the better deal in the long run, and can afford to be sorry for her."

Molly nodded, though Sadvia thought she looked somewhat unconvinced!

oOo

Fenoria dreaded meeting the girls again; but Otaysa's pep talk had paid off, and their greeting was quite casual, if not friendly.

"I'll show you how to make your bed and stuff if you like," said Kelia. "You'll want to learn how to fit in, of course."

Fenoria would have preferred to have gone home and not have to fit in, but doing so would make life easier and more comfortable.

oOo

Life slipped back into a routine; Fenoria was not entirely happy, but at least she had stopped making too many waves as she did the tasks allotted to her, even if it was not with particularly good grace. She was, as Indeela said to Sadvia, 'moderately tolerable' now.

"I'm glad you got over being like her," said Sadvia, quietly.

Indeela stared.

"I never was!"

"Oh yes you were! Quite nearly as bad! How ashamed I was when you were rude to L'sya before she Impressed, calling her 'only a drudge!' I wanted to slap you!"

Indeela flushed.

"I guess … I guess I got in the habit of it seeming important what your birth was."

"It's a bad habit, and I'm glad you broke it, kid. I hope Fenoria can break it too."

Indeela sighed.

"Y'know, I'm not as busy as you, but I'm not lazy either! Or in the habit of looking for slights, 'cos mostly I take people as I find them! But Fenoria hasn't got the get up and go to change her habits further than having a quiet life!"

"Well, perhaps the walks Otaysa insists on will give her more energy for some change, and maybe you kids can help her establish a habit of mannerly behaviour that she'll be too lazy to lose," said Sadvia, thinking of Amrys' description of Fenoria, having seen the girl sewing lackadaisically.

Amrys had said,

"Y'know, if that girl was any lazier, she'd need a drudge to work bellows to keep her breathing."

But the fresh air and exercise were helping Fenoria, and one could hope it would make a lasting impression that her cheeks had faint roses, and she could go upstairs without panting. Poor child, her parents had really failed her!

oOo

Hatching approached; and Kelia managed to run a book even out of the Weyr, as Sagarra had sent wicked word pictures of all the candidates. Several too were known to Kelia, even if only by reputation, and some were known to the weaver apprentices by reputation too. Vana they had declared was 'their' candidate, having been a paying student the turn before.

Amrys and Jilamon were invited to the hatching by Sagarra, standing for the first time, and their parents too, of course.

It was a dramatic hatching; and Amrys refused to talk much about it on their return, save to volunteer the information that R'inia had the Queen, J'sis had a Green, as did V'na, and a girl had been hurt.

That there were doubts about the injured girl's survival, Amrys did not dwell on; nor that her friend Sagarra was heartbroken at not Impressing at all when she had hoped to get a Green, if not the Queen. Sagarra's foster sister was now S'relis, and that seemed cruel.

The weavers were mostly interested in V'na of course, and to some extent, Sadvia's friend J'sis. Rulene had also been invited and was full of her little sister M'litta's Impression, and that the child had declared every intention of Weyring one day with new Brown Rider G'ran, one of Lord Groghe's numerous offspring!

Rulene was more forthcoming to her fellows in Gold dormitory, about the terrible injuries to Tirreysa.

"I was so shocked by what Ma – M'litta said," she said. "She said 'girl's spoilt, stuck up and pushy; couldn't happen to a better person.' And M'litta's not a spiteful child, but she did have bruises and I reckon this Tirreysa tried to push her around."

"Used to happen all the time," said Kelia. "Until they started training the potential Queenriders better, instead of just picking the prettiest Ranking brats with legs that opened even wider than their prattling mouths. Sounds like she might well deserve it, but your sister is just so tactless, Rulene – and it is a tasteless way to put it."

"I did tell her off, but she had that mulish look she used to wear when there were fosterlings bullying her, when we were all in the hold," said Rulene. "And this girl has been thrown out of fostering with Tragen, so I guess some people just won't learn."

"If she lives, it might be the making of her," said Kelia. "A rather sharp lesson, but maybe a timely one."

They both sighed, and tried not to look at Fenoria.

Fenoria was shocked!

She wondered if she might be considered 'no better a person' for such a terrible thing to happen to.

It was not perhaps a huge change; but it was another point she was pondering, as well as her improved complexion, and ability to mount stairs easily.

oOo

Summer was drawing to a close; nights were drawing in rapidly as frost lay on the ground in the mornings. Molly and Marra felt as though they had been there as long as the others now they had settled in, and they were catching up quickly.

"Shells!" said Amrys, "Almost another Turn around! After the Autumnal Gather, Winter will be on us!"

She was pummelled.

oOo

The Autumn Gather was jolly as always; and most of the apprentices had something to offer for sale! Even Marra and Molly had made the most of their better-developed sewing skills to embroider collars to fit to tunics or dresses, and had hemmed handkerchiefs. No-one, as Molly said, could ever have too many handkerchiefs!

Fenoria still had no idea who Molly was, and watched the apprentices run about playing, as she stood with the other paying girls. Not a glimmer of recognition passed her features over Molly, who scrutinised her carefully to make sure.

Otaysa thought it would be a real breakthrough if the girl showed enough care and compassion to ask what had become of her drudge; but that breakthrough had not yet come. Otaysa privately wondered if it ever would.

Molly was more of a victory; she was a changed girl, learning to accept love and gifts, and to return affection truly, not just the semblance of loyalty to get a better life. Otaysa was beginning to feel real affection for her foster daughter, who was as careful of little Janika as ever Amrys was, and as tender to the child. She played games with Janika, with her dolls, taking such parts as the little girl suggested with them. Otaysa had ordered from Sadvia a jointed doll for the older girl, as a Turnover gift; an adult-proportioned doll who could be dressed in fashionable clothes that an older girl might claim as an aid to her study, if pride would not let her own to wanting a doll to play with!

Otaysa reflected that it would be Turnover almost before they knew where they were; and a new intake of students! Still, she thought, we may be happier next summer when Fenoria is gone. For all her sympathy for the badly brought up girl, it was impossible to really like her.

They would lose one paying student at Turnover; Breda had taken Amrys' advice and had written to her father asking to foster at Northfork Runnerhold, as Lady Amrys had recommended it – a sure way to catch his interest – where she could also have musical training with their large number of Harpers, without feeling as embarrassed over having no knowledge as she might do in the main Harper Hall.

Breda was actually excited, and even came to see the apprentices to let off steam of her enthusiasm.

"I hope it will make you happy, Breda," said Marra, earnestly. "I'm really happy here; I hope you, too, find out what you really want."

"Thanks," said Breda, gruffly.

She, at least, thought Amrys, had benefited from being here, and had learned a lot; and Kaili would not take any nonsense if the girl went back to being silly.

In terms of getting two new female apprentices and taming Breda, it had been a successful half-turn. It only wanted a little while to see what the new intake would be like! And something occurred to Amrys.

"Breda, you and Marra do look alike, side by side," she said. "If you came from the same Hold before Newfields, could you be related?"

Breda went white.

"You mean, did my father muck with one of the drudges and I've disgraced my family by not looking out for a half sister?" she said, bluntly.

"Breda, if you are my sister, that's about the best way to look at it, and I can consider all the past between us wiped out for it," said Marra.

Breda considered.

"I'm not sure I could ask my father," she said.

"I'll write to my mother," said Marra. "And perhaps as we've come a long way together, we can adopt each other anyway?"

"I … I guess I'd like that," said Breda. "You've been more than decent to me when I started to learn."

"We both learned," shrugged Marra.

It duly turned out that Marra's mother had succumbed to the charms of Breda's father, which as Marra said, at least meant it was not rape, and had been devastated to find out he was married. When Breda's mother died, and they moved to Newfields, Marra's mother had gone along to try to persuade Bredan to marry her, but he had never intended anything but a light flirtation. His attitude had probably led to Breda learning to despise the drudge's daughter.

"Wrongs and foolishness on both sides," Marra sighed, showing Breda the letter.

"He ought to have got her herbs," said Breda, "But I'm glad he didn't. Are we going to fight over who should have done what?"

"No, we just accept that they were both foolish and try not to do anything so daft ourselves," said Marra.

"I love my Da."

"I love my Ma. Doesn't mean they ought to be together though."

Breda heaved a sigh of relief.

"I don't think they'd suit."

"No, and at least your Da was wise enough to recognise that. If he'd married her when he was widowed, you'd have resented her and me more, and they'd have fought."

"Well, we can be friends and sisters," said Breda. "Write to me?"

"I will," said Marra. "I'm glad Ma was honest in the letter."

"Perhaps as she's told it, she can move on."

"I hope so!"

oOo

The building works were coming on apace; though of course they had to stop with the first snow. Master Lynger was confident that the two or three months of spring would be enough to see the work completed!

oOo

With Turnover came promotions to Journeyman and confirmations of apprentices. And the Master was glad to confirm all the new ones this turn; for though some would never be great luminaries of the craft, none were so poor that it made their continued training a waste of time, though Cavan came close. However, the boy had an incentive to buck his ideas up, since two more girls in his class, who came late and still made a better showing than him was an affront to his pride.

Of promotions to Journeyman, Larterel had duly heeded the warnings and was now ready; and with the agreement of the other Masters, he was to Walk the tables. Silger had not pulled himself up enough, and, disappointed, the Master left him. Of the others, the Master proposed a younger boy, Hetel; and there was general agreement!

Jerellan was too young, as were Zayven and Mellsi, who could both do with another turn's maturity, though the Master had considered Zayven most carefully.

On due consideration, the Master decided to make no real changes to the dormitories. Four of the five boys in Lower Bronze were either too young – that was Tirley, Nelon and Sherek – to consider making senior apprentices, or not ready, as in the case of Greggor. Telonas would join the seniors. All of Lower White would become Upper White, with the new intake forming Lower White when the Hall reopened to students. The two new girls, Clareena, and Cavan would receive extra tuition from the new journeymen, to help keep them up with the rest of the class; and if need be, could spend another Turn at the level of Upper White.

It was going, thought the Master, very well!

 **finis for now. There's another one partly written and for those who follow my Krait stories, part four of year 16 is complete and with my beta. I also plan to follow up Breda at Northfork. And yes, I will be doing the Impression with Vorinia and Josis and co. Life is settling more into a routine, so I hope I may write one fanfic between every 3 or 4 novels that pay the bills. As I hope to turn out 6-8 novels a year that should be two fanfics. That, at least, is the aim. wish me luck and good productivity ...  
**


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